


A Dark Stranger's Christmas

by AderynBennett88



Series: In the Absence of Light [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, ADSC Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas references, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Grinch References, Intimacy, Love, Secret love, Takes Place During ADSC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AderynBennett88/pseuds/AderynBennett88
Summary: It’s that time of year folks! As a thank you to all of you who supported my work and left such gorgeous comments, please enjoy a festive little short of our favourite couple while we wait for the next installment of the In the Absence of Light series. Enjoy!In this tale, Thoria tries to bring a certain festive atmosphere to Hyrule Castle. But will our resident Grinches spoil her holiday plans?Stay tuned for an announcement about A Dark Castle Rises!If you haven't already, check out the preceding work to this short - A Dark Stranger Comes.Merry Christmas!
Relationships: Impa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Thoria
Series: In the Absence of Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987870
Comments: 23
Kudos: 13





	1. Link

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

Link groaned and buried his head further under the covers. The morning sun was bright, glancing off the snow shining on the windowsills and glittering on the ground below. He muttered something incomprehensible that could have translated to “five more minutes” had had his face not been buried in his pillow. All was in vain, as a heavy weight landed on his chest, and autumn-smelling hair covered his head.

“Oof! Thoria!”

“Come on, get up!” Thoria tugged the blankets away, her legs to either side of him as he rolled onto his back. “It’s morning!”

“It’s the weekend,” Link groaned, not entirely unhappy with view of the woman astride him. Her emerald eyes glittered and her full lips spread in her charming half-smile. The overlarge, satin shirt she wore to bed did little to shield her figure from him, and he rose to meet her in a kiss.

“It’s barely morning,” he grumbled good-naturedly as she took his hand and pulled him free of the warm cocoon of blankets. “What’s the rush?” he pulled her back. “Can we not stay here?” he eyed her suggestively.

“I thought you said this was the start of a special fortnight?” Thoria said, tugging his hand. “Something about leading up to the winter solstice?”

“Oh, yeah,” Link allowed her to pull him up, shivering slightly in the chilly room. The fire had gone out during the night, and no one would be in to light it until later. He ran his hands through his hair, rumpling it and wincing at the tangles.

“It’s an old Hylian tradition,” he explained, as Thoria shed her shirt and wandered about the room, taking her time picking up her scattered clothes. Link grinned and turned his back, watching her in the mirror as he picked up a comb. She noticed and wiggled her hips suggestively before dressing.

“Sounds like fun,” she said, fiddling with her sleeves. “What do you do?”

“Its… not that much fun, really,” Link replied. “It’s a celebration of sorts, yes, but its purpose is to observe the difficult times ahead approaching in winter. The lack of fresh food, the coldness, a time for people to make ready themselves for a cold and hungry few months.”

Thoria’s face fell. “That sounds… pretty grim, actually. Where’s the fun?”

Link smiled, gently. “Winter isn’t fun. It’s cold and hard and hungry, for the most part. At least, for the common folk. We’re okay here, but…” he tailed off and sighed. “The people get together to ration their food for the winter, to chop wood and prepare. I wish there was more I could do for them.”

He turned to look at Thoria, her arms folded, one finger stroking her lip, her brow furrowed in thought.

“That’s nothing like what we have at home,” she said. “Our celebrations were always full of joy and laughter, of sharing, spending time with family and friends, of gratefulness.” A smile began to spread over her face. “Maybe there is something you can do for them. The people. And to be honest, it sounds like the perfect thing for Hyrule.”

“What does?” Link said. Thoria’s smile split into a grin.

“Christmas!” she said.

XXXXXXX

After a hearty, hot breakfast, Link followed Thoria out of the castle and into the snow. The sky was clear, the sun sparkling on the white blanket, glittering like a million shards of diamond. The trees and bushes were covered with a thick layer, and Thoria slowed her happy prancing to walk by his side, pointing at a guard patrolling around the walls of the courtyard. She began to giggle as he marched under a snow-laden tree, almost groaning with the weight of it, the branches already bowed.

Just as the guard passed underneath, the snow fell with a flump, landing directly on the guard’s helmet. He collapsed with a muffled yelp, and Thoria burst out laughing.

“Come on,” she said, as Link tried to stifle his laughter as the guard stood, brushing snow from his armour and trying for all the world to pretend that didn’t just happen. As they walked, Thoria continued her explanation from breakfast.

“So, that’s the origins of it,” she said. “Now, from what I remember, people spend ages decorating their homes and streets to look festive, buy each other presents to wrap and pretend they’re from Father Christmas, and-“

“Father Christmas?”

“Saint Nick, Ol’ Noel, Santa Claus,” Thoria waved a hand. “History says he was a very wealthy and generous noble who gave gifts to poor children, and through time he was immortalised as good old Father C.”

“A generous noble?” Link smirked. “I’d like to see that. It wouldn’t take much if each of the nobles here gave a little to the poorest. It could change their lives.”

“Exactly!” Thoria said. “Christmas is all about giving, and sharing in the festive spirit. I think Hyrule would benefit from that, a little joy in the dark days of winter, a little kindness from those lucky enough to be born into wealth.”

“I love your optimism,” Link said. He glanced over their shoulder at the castle they were leaving behind. No one was around, so he took her hand. “I do. But I don’t think any nobles are going to be generous with the poor, no matter the time of year.”

“I’m not expecting them to get everyone a personalised gift,” Thoria said. “But, if they all chipped in a bit to make Castle Town more festive, put some money down for a public feast… your nobles love parties, I’ll give them that. It’s an excuse for a big party.”

“It does sound nice,” Link said. “But what about food? It’s scarce enough for the people at this time of year, we couldn’t justify a feast.”

“You’ve been to the castle kitchens,” Thoria argued, happily. “There’s more than enough for one day of indulgence for everyone. The people will love it.”

“We’d have to pass it through Zelda,” Link said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She makes all the decisions about public celebrations. I don’t know if she’d go for it. You’d.. _we’d_ have to convince her.”

“We?” Thoria grinned and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “So you think it’s a good idea?”

“From what you’ve told me, yeah.” Link grinned back and touched his cheek. “But I’m still not completely sure I know what it really is.”

Thoria grinned and took his hand, and began to pull him towards the town. She began to sing softly.

“ _It’s in the singing of a street corner choir, it’s going home and getting warm by the fire…_ ”

Link couldn’t help but laugh as they made their way into the bustling heart of Hyrule.

They wound through the crowds of people, all bundled against the cold. The grey stone paths were visible, wet and shining under the busy feet, the snow slushy and pushed up against the buildings and fountain. Link pulled the hood of his cloak tighter about his ears, hoping no one could see the green of his tunic underneath. Thoria imitated him, but he caught a flash of her smile.

“Look around you,” she said, waving a hand at the surrounding town. “Doesn’t it look drab and miserable?”

Link frowned, following her gaze. Yes, the buildings were grey and slouching, and the snow was a wet mess splattered about the streets, but…

“Look,” he said. “Look at the way the snow sits on the roofs, the way the sun catches it. Look at the icicles hanging off everything, like glass. Beauty is everywhere, Thoria, if you look for it.”

She grinned. “You’re absolutely right, and it's never been moreso than right in front of me." She smiled pointedly at him, her eyes full of warmth. "But I want to make it _more_ beautiful.” She pointed. “Picture it. Tiny golden lights wound around the eaves of every home and shop, red and green tinsel hanging over every door-“

“Tinsel?”

“Wreaths of holly and mistletoe adorning every surface, candles illuminating the snow on the windowsills…” she took his hands and spun him in a circle. “People carolling in the square, red ribbons and coloured lights! Can't you see it?”

“I can,” Link said, prising his hands out of her grip and glancing over his shoulder. “But how do we do all of that when the only thing from your world is you?”

Thoria gave a genial shrug and moved on through the crowd.

“If we’re going to do this properly, I want to get a head start on preparations,” she said. She paused outside an oddments shop, a variety of bric-a-brac on display in the window, ranging from ornaments and wall hangings to furniture and musical instruments. With a giggle, she dipped inside, Link following and winding through the cluttered shop. Thoria already had a bundle of oddments in her arms, and was making for the counter.

Link peered at them as the smiling woman pulled out parcel paper and string, wrapping each tightly. There were reams of brightly coloured ribbons, glass baubles of red, silver and gold, a woven wreath of holly branches, and more. Thoria produced a red rupee to pay, and Link checked his pockets, grumbling good naturedly when he found his wallet twenty rupees lighter than it had been a moment ago.

“I’ll repay you,” Thoria said, taking the bag of oddments and winking at him. “With interest, of course.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Link said as they stepped back into the cold air. “You don’t exactly have a job, Beautiful.”

“Oh, _mo ghaol_ ,” Thoria laughed. “I’ll repay you the best way I know.” And she gave him such a smouldering look that Link was surprised the snow didn’t melt around them.

They went on through the town, Thoria occasionally dipping into shops and emerging with yet more strange things, most of which were brightly coloured in gold, silver, red and green. She hummed as she went, tinkling little melodies that all seemed to share a leitmotif, dancing as she walked. Occasionally, she would sing lines in a soft voice.

_Oh, come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…_

_In the bleak midwinter…_

_Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to our newborn king…_

Link smiled, almost unaware that he was doing so. Her happiness was infectious, a cheer that seemed to spread from where they walked to others around them, like a golden light. As they wove through the crowd, cold faces took on a warmth, sour expressions curled into smiles, hunched shoulders straightened. Thoria seemed to notice as well, for she linked her arm through his and squeezed, her smile brighter than the sun, more blinding than the snow.

She paused near to the southern gate, where a steady trickle of people moved in and out of the town, watched over by bored guards.

“Hm,” she said. “I need a tree.”

“A… tree?” Link stared at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” she said. “Any lumberjacks about?”

“Uh…” Link glanced around. “There’s one a few miles from town. He doesn’t trade in trees, though, just the wood.”

“I’m sure he’d make an exception for little me,” Thoria said, with a smirk. “And, failing that, there Hero of Twilight.”

“Like I’m going to use my status to further your nefarious deeds,” Link elbowed her and grinned.

“If you only knew,” Thoria laughed. “Alright. I’ll worry about that tomorrow morning. How about we head back? I think I’ve got enough to be getting on with…” she eyed him. “And I need to make good on my debt.”

Link shivered delightedly. “Then what are we waiting for?”

They hurried back to the castle, and aside from a minor incident where a tree dumped snow over Thoria’s head, leaving her swearing and wearing snow as a hat until Link pointed it out, they made it back in good time. They had barely passed into the entrance hall when Impa appeared from around a corner, her eyes on a sheaf of parchment in her hand.

“Impa!” Thoria cried, bouncing over, the huge bag of wrapped parcels swinging from her hand. Impa jerked upright, looking positively alarmed at such unbridled cheer.

“Yes, Lady Thoria?” she asked, tucking the parchment away.

“I’d like to speak with Princess Zelda, if she’s free,” Thoria said. “It’s about this winter solstice thing.”

Impa’s brows rose a fraction, and she glanced at Link, who became very interested in the ceiling and began to whistle.

“Her Highness is currently at work,” Impa said, her voice slow and cool. “I am sure she will be glad to speak with you when she is next available, but she is a busy woman. It may not be for some time.”

Thoria just grinned. “No problem, ‘preciate the help.” And she bounced off towards the stairs. Link shared a look with Impa, shrugged, smiled, and followed his secret girlfriend up to her rooms.

Once inside, Thoria stowed her bag of strangeness and turned to Link with a wicked smile. She pulled him towards her, almost tearing his chainmail in her eagerness, and for a while, Link forgot about the cold and the snow.


	2. Zelda

The morning dawned cold and grey as Princess Zelda rose, shivering, from her vast bed. The realm seemed to have chilled even further overnight, the snowdrifts now reaching almost a foot up the castle walls, with the promise of more to come. With Impa’s help, she bathed and dressed in a luxurious gown lined with the fur of winter hares, soft as eiderdown and warm as a fresh fire.

She spent her morning in the throne room, listening to the petty woes of her people and doling out just and fair advice, before taking a quick luncheon with Impa in a private room, savouring the rich, meaty stew and fresh bread.

As they ate, Impa took out a letter from the depths of her cloak.

“I am sorry to disturb your schedule, but it seems Lord Resper is unavailable for your meeting this afternoon,” she said, passing the letter over. Zelda took it and read swiftly. She sighed and placed the letter delicately on the table.

“A pity,” she said. “I rather enjoy his company. He is charming and kind.”

“A good suitor,” Impa said. To Zelda, the statement was pointed. Zelda pursed her lips.

“Any suitor is preferable to Lord Dool,” she said. “Well, Impa. It would seem I find myself with a rare free afternoon,” she said. “I find myself at a loss. I would walk the gardens, were they not so cold. Perhaps I will research in the library, and see if I can yet discover more of this prophecy, or discover an elusive answer to our problems with this stranger.”

Impa nodded, not meeting her gaze. Zelda folder her hands in her lap.

“Dear friend, is there something on your mind?”

Impa twisted her mouth. “I would prefer you have an afternoon of relaxation,” she muttered. “However, I should tell you the Lady Thoria requested a meeting with you. I have no idea what about. I put her off yesterday, and can do so again today if you wish?”

Zelda sighed and shook her head. A meeting with the stranger was the last thing she wanted. She had taken her Chosen Knight from her, by her father’s instruction. Each day, Link spent his time watching the woman, guarding her, alert for any sign that she was dangerous, and would bring about the ruin that the prophecy foretold. But, a meeting with the stranger would inevitably mean that she would see her Hero, and that was all too rare a treat nowadays.

“I will meet with her,” Zelda said, rising. “Get it out of the way. If we are swift, then perhaps I will still have time to rest myself before the morrow.”

“If you insist,” Impa sighed, rising. Zelda smiled, and approached the Sheikah, wrapping the older woman in a warm embrace. She felt the leather armour under her arms, the strength of her muscles as Impa returned her grip with a gentle squeeze.

“I do,” she said. “Send word to Lady Thoria. I shall return to my chambers until it is time.”

Zelda languished in her chambers for an hour, toying with books that could not hold her interest, brushing her shining hair and testing her vast array of perfumes before settling on one that smelled of spring blossoms and cherries, squirting it liberally on her throat and wrists, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Link.

Impa returned in due course, frowning.

“It took me longer than I thought to find her,” she said, striding into Zelda’s bedroom, where she found the princess reclining on her bed, winding a length of string around her fingers. “She insisted we meet her in one of the spare rooms of the castle.” Impa laid a hand on her torso, where Zelda knew she kept several lethal stilettos strapped to her body. “I will keep you safe, sweet one.”

Zelda hopped off the bed. “I have no reason to believe the Lady Thoria would do me specific harm,” she said. “But thank you, old friend. It is best to be on our guard. I presume Link is there?”

“No,” Impa said. “He is pacing outside the room in question, agitated and impatient. It would seem Lady Thoria has banned him from entry, lest he spoil her ‘surprise.’”

Frowning, Zelda led the way through the castle, shivering even under her warm dress and thick, fox fur scarf. It took fifteen minutes to find the room the stranger wished to meet in, and Zelda spotted Link instantly, pacing up and down in front of an unremarkable door, casting dark looks at the wood as though it had offered him great insult. But in betwixt this, a wide smile graced his face as he paced, until he looked to the door again.

“Ser Link,” Zelda said, quickening her stride. Link stood to attention immediately, and bowed.

“Your Highness,” he greeted her, the smile still playing about his face. “Lady Impa. Thank you for coming.“

Zelda nodded, her eyes roving over the man before her, breathless, as she always seemed to find herself in his presence.

“Ser Link,” she said, smiling. “You look happy today. I am most pleased. Pray tell, what has you in such a merry mood, that I might share in your happiness?”

Link’s smile was wry. “A simple thing, your Highness. I have had a debt repaid.”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked. “You are most generous to give loans to the needy, but you would be wise not to loan to those who may not pay you back.”

“I was never in any doubt that they would,” Link said, with a grin. Then he cleared his throat. “I guess you’re here to see what Thoria’s planned?”

Zelda’s smile slipped. “Yes. I would have had to postpone this meeting, but it seems that Lord Resper has encountered an urgent matter at his estate. We have had to rearrange our time together.”

“A pity,” Link said. “But I’m sure whatever this is, is important.”

He raised a hand to the door and knocked. A flurry of movement sounded inside, and the door opened wide enough for the stranger to poke her head out. She spotted the princess and smiled, managing to curtsey whilst only revealing her face.

“Your Highness,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m excited to share this with you.”

Zelda offered a guarded smile. “Then let us not keep waiting.”

Thoria’s smile split into a wide grin that showed far too many teeth to be proper, and stepped back, flinging the door wide. “Come in.”

Zelda glanced at Impa, who nodded, her hand caressing her hidden blades, and the princess crossed the threshold.

“Oh,” she said, as she took in the sight before her. Link let out a low whistle, and even Impa made a small sound of admiration, quickly stifled.

The room had been transformed into something that Zelda could only describe as _festive_. The walls were decked in streaming ribbons of red, gold and green, the ceiling peppered with parchment cut in the shape of snowflakes. A woven wreath of holly hung above the fireplace, the mantle of which was decorated with pinecones and baubles painted in silver and gold. Dominating the room was an eight-foot tall _tree_ that had somehow miraculously appeared in the middle of the room. The tree was decorated with ribbons of gold, glassy red baubles and tiny glass bottles that, on closer inspection, contained very annoyed fairies that were all wearing tiny red hats.

Zelda turned to Thoria, who was grinning like a simpleton, standing next to Link, who was taking in the scene with wide-eyed adoration.

“What is this?” Zelda demanded.

“Christmas!” Thoria all but yelped, clapping her hands together. “A tradition from home, a time of joy and generosity, something that makes even the most cold hearted people happy! It means different things to people, most use it as an excuse to be merry and spend time with those most important to them, while others use it to celebrate the supposed birth of our God…” she trailed off, thinking. “Or, is son, who is actually Him, but also the holy spirit… never mind.”

The stranger practically bounced to the centre of the room, pointing at the tree and waving at the decorations. “It’s the best I could do with so little time and virtually no resources, but I think it gets the message across. Isn’t it great?”

“It’s amazing,” Link said quietly. Zelda had opened her mouth to disagree, and changed her mind as Link spoke. She smiled sweetly instead.

“Why do you show me this, Lady Thoria?” she asked.

“Because I think it would be nice for everyone to celebrate this,” the stranger said, waving her hand. “Not only does it bring people together, but it helps to remember what’s important in life. Family, friends, special relationships, the giving spirit, thankfulness, the winter solstice…”

“I hardly think it appropriate to give worship to a god that is not part of our pantheon,” Zelda said, softly. But far from being deterred, the stranger only seemed to brighten.

“Oh, worship of Christ is purely down to choice,” she said. “It’s about giving, and being with people you care about, and an excuse to party, if nothing else.” She grinned. “There’s a big dinner. Turkey, potatoes, pigs in blankets, cranberry sauce, parsnips…”

“Pigs… in blankets?” Impa shook her head. “Lady Thoria, this is quite the ridiculous notion. Her Highness has more important things to concern herself with than a frivolous, pagan holiday.”

“Oh.” The stranger’s smile slipped for the first time. “I just thought it would be nice. The merging of our two worlds. From what I’ve heard, the traditions during winter here are a bit bleak.”

“Perhaps so,” Zelda said. “Winter is a hard time. We must conserve food and warmth, battling through the harsh weather, surviving against the elements. We cannot afford to waste our resources.”

“Well,” the stranger said. “This could be a morale booster. A way for people to forget their troubles for a day, something to look forward to during the hard times. A holiday goes a long way to making people happy.”

Zelda kept her sweet smile on her face. “I understand that this would be important to you. But I cannot imagine the citizens of Hyrule indulging in such frivolity. And I could not ask them to. Their lives are hard enough as it is.”

She watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Thoria’s shoulders slumped, her eyes downcast. Zelda drew herself up and prepared to sweep from the room. But the stranger spoke again.

“Would that not be for the people to decide?” Thoria asked. “Would it not be up to them if they want to celebrate a thankful, giving spirit, to have something to look forward to once a year? Would they not be indebted to you and your noble class if they, too, were generous and gave a small donation towards a celebratory feast for all to enjoy as one?”

Zelda stopped in the act of turning. Incredulous, she stared at the stranger, who added a meek “your Highness” to her sentence. She glanced at Impa, who was motionless, and at Link, who looked hopeful.

“It’s worth asking, Zelda,” he said, his voice soft in the cavernous room. “If they’re not interested, then so be it. But where’s the harm in trying? It might make people happy. Happy people work hard. And I like to see them happy. Their lives are hard enough.”

Zelda softened as she gazed at her Chosen Knight. She could never resist the blue of his eyes, nor the gentle baritone of his voice.

“Very well,” she said, and turned back to the stranger. “You have the two weeks before the solstice to convince the people of Hyrule that this… _Christmas_ is worth celebrating. If the people agree, then I shall allow it. You will have to speak with the nobles yourself, and convince them to part with their coin for the festivities. If you do not succeed, and my people have missed out on their usual traditions for nothing…” she left the rest of her sentence unsaid, yet loud in the quiet that followed. With one last, longing look at her Chosen Knight, she swept from the room, Impa at her heels.

“ _What_ a display,” she said, as they headed for her chambers. “I have never seen something so gaudy, so frivolous, so ridiculous. What that woman was thinking is beyond me.”

“Hm.” Impa said, trailing behind. Zelda glanced back to find her expression thoughtful.

“What is it?”

“I think they may be on to something,” Impa said. “This time of year is dark for all, and hard. Would it be so terrible to have something to celebrate and look forward to?”

Zelda glared. “It is not about enjoyment,” she said. “People can find enjoyment in whatever they do. And I do not want the worship of a pagan God in my kingdom.”

“The Lady Thoria said that is a choice,” Impa replied. “There is no need to include that part, nor tell the people of it. We could use the day as a celebration of Hylia, or one of the Three.”

“There are already celebrations for them,” Zelda snapped. “Do not tell me that you think this a good idea?”

Impa held her gaze. “As your advisor, I would advise you do not rule out the potential positive effects,” she said.

“Like what?”

“There is potential monetary gain,” Impa mused. “I am sure our financial advisors would find a way to capitalise on this, as we do with all other holidays.”

With a grumble, Zelda increased her pace, hurrying to her chambers, to parchment and quill, to ruminate on this new and troubling idea the stranger had brought to her kingdom.


	3. Link

The next two days saw Thoria in a flurry of preparation, writing notes and sketching examples of festive decorations, planning her mission to bring Christmas to Hyrule. All the while, she hummed, whistled or sang melodies that never failed to put a smile on Link’s face. Occasionally, she would pass him notes to pin to the wall, their plan slowly coming together.

“Now, to get the commoners invested should be easy enough,” she muttered, her quill dancing across the parchment in her elegant script. “The promise of a Christmas feast funded by the nobility through nothing but good will alone should be plenty. That, and the festive spirit. Any excuse to have a little more joy in the world is a good one. Plus, it’ll make the little humans happy to believe in a little magic and get presents every year.”

“Little humans?” Link laughed. “Do you mean children?”

“Yeah, that.”

“What about the nobility? They’re going to be harder to convince.” Link bent over her shoulder and tucked her hair over her ear, brushing a kiss on her cheek. “They’ll want something in return. They never, ever do something solely for the good of mankind. I know you’re good, but they’re bastards. All of them.”

“All?” Thoria straightened and showed him a list of names. “Most. We’ll start with Lord Resper. He seems like the kindest of the lot, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him to part with a few rupees for the good of the realm.”

“True,” Link said, taking the list. “He’s always been more generous than the rest of them. He’s one of Zelda’s suitors, and would make a good king. He’s kind to the common man, but that’s probably because of his history.”

“Oh?” Thoria looked up. There was a smudge of ink on her nose, and a spatter on her chin. Link couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. When he was young, his father disowned him and forced him out. He had to work to survive like one of us. He learned the value of hard graft, and the difficulties the common man faces. His father rescinded and allowed him back on the condition he marry a certain noble lady. He did, but she passed away a few years ago, and I don’t think he ever forgot what it means to be a commoner.”

“Hm.” Thoria rubbed her face, smearing the ink. “I can use that. Do you know anything else about any of the others?”

“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Link said, and slid his hand round the back of her neck, tilting her face to his. He kissed her, and she sighed. “You’re working too hard, Thoria. Take a break?”

“And do what?”

Link grinned. “Me?”

XXXXXXX

Hours later, they rode across Hyrule Fields towards Lord Resper’s estate, a few miles from the capital. His manor was in the middle of a well-ordered town with sturdy homes and busy shops. The people they passed were smiling and rosy cheeked, the children plump and laughing. Thoria squeezed Link’s middle from behind as they rode into town, Epona slowing to a walk as they made their way down the streets.

“This is lovely,” Thoria said, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I wish more of Hyrule was like this.”

“Resper’s one of a kind,” Link said. “I agree. It would be good if more of Hyrule followed his example.”

“Let’s hope Zelda sees sense and marries him,” Thoria said. Link laughed humourlessly. They both knew it was a pointless wish.

They arrived at the manor and were greeted by a guard in a furlined cloak.

“Name and business?” he asked, his gloved hand tightening on his spear. Link lowered his hood.

“Ser Link of Ordon, Chosen Knight of Hyrule, and Lady Thoria to see Lord Resper,” he announced. Thoria sniggered quietly behind him and he elbowed her under his cloak. The guard grinned.

“It’s good to see you in our little part of the realm, Ser,” he said. “Do you have an appointment with Lord Resper?”

“No,” Link said. “And I know it’s short notice. But we had hoped to see him.”

“Wait there,” the guard said. “Someone’ll be along for your horse.”

Link dismounted and helped Thoria down. She grinned.

“Ser Link of Ordon,” she mimicked. “Gods above, I love it when you’re formal.”

“Oh, shut up,” Link said, smirking. “You’re one to talk. All plummy mouthed when it suits you.”

“I’m just saying,” Thoria said. She affected an air of nobility. “One must perform for one’s betters, don’t you know?”

Link grinned as the guard returned and waved them past the gate and into the small courtyard. Now they were closer, Link could see the manor was on the smaller side, barely six bedrooms, if he judged correctly. But then, Resper was never one for flaunting his wealth. The old manor, as he heard it, had been thrice the size.

Inside was grand enough, with high ceilings and polished wood, the artfully papered walls covered with portraits of stern looking men and homely women. A butler greeted them in the entrance hall and showed them to the sitting room, where they perched on low sofas and were offered hot tea, basking in the warmth of a roaring fire in the hearth.

“What’s the plan, then?” Link asked, as the butler departed.

“I don’t really have one,” Thoria admitted. “If he’s as nice as you say, it shouldn’t be too hard to appeal to his generous nature.”

“I hope you’re right,” Link murmured. “He’s still a noble.”

They looked up as Lord Resper entered the sitting room with a smile, his grey hair swept back from his face over a tall collar and bow-tie above a velvety smoking jacket. He held a pipe in one hand, and extended the other to Link and Thoria as they rose.

“Ser, good Lady,” he said, shaking their hands warmly. “It’s an honour to have you in my home. Such a shame I’ve not had the pleasure before.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Link replied, waiting for the Lord to seat himself before they followed suit. “I’m sorry it’s the first time too. I find I don’t have a lot of time for social calls.”

Resper smiled at them, the firelight winking on his spectacles. He looked somewhat like an older, more portly Shad. “Well then, ser, I can’t see why that would have changed now. What business brings you to my door?”

Thoria cleared her throat and leant forwards.

“It’s me,” she said. “My idea, my lord. Do you know of me?”

Resper quirked a lip. “I do, my dear. You’re this unusual young woman who arrived in Hyrule through a tear in the sky, correct?”

“Yep,” Thoria said, adding a hasty “my lord,” after a moment. “But my mysterious arrival is not why we’re here.”

“Do tell,” Lord Resper leant back in his armchair and sipped daintily from his cup. Thoria outlined her idea for bringing Christmas to Hyrule, explaining the customs of her home and the joy it brought to all and sundry. As she talked, Lord Resper remained still and silent, his expression never changing from the mildly interested expression that he wore.

Link clasped his hands and waited as Thoria waxed lyrical about the build up to Christmas, the decorating, the family activities, the shopping for gifts, the community spirit, the fabled Saint Nicholas. All the while, Resper watched. He swallowed and gritted his teeth.

After a while, Thoria began to tail off.

“And… well. Then it’s the big day, and people open their presents… and, um… have a big dinner and… well. That’s it.”

Resper nodded, once.

“Fascinating,” he said. “But I am still confused as to why you have travelled to me, in such cold weather, to tell me of a tradition of your hometown?”

“Home world,” Thoria stressed. “It’s global.”

Resper blinked. “Global?”

“Celebrated across the entire world,” she said. “Not just one country, or kingdom.”

Resper straightened. “Just how big is your world, my lady?”

Link glanced at Thoria. This was new. She had told him of some countries, but never anything more than that. If Christmas had truly unlocked more of her memories, allowing her more glimpses into her past because of it, then…

“Oh, about nine billion or so people across about two hundred countries,” she said. “Give or take.”

“ _How_ many?” Link and Resper asked at the same time. Thoria shrugged.

“I know, it’s obscene. Over-population sucks.”

“Billion?” Resper swept a hand over his hair. “And they all celebrate this Christmas?”

“Most of them,” Thoria said. “Some don’t. But it’s pretty much everywhere.”

“Again,” Resper sighed and set down his cup. “Barring this… astounding revelation. Why tell me?”

“Because I want to bring it here,” Thoria said. “I’ve seen the good it can do. Warring families setting aside their differences and bonding over it, friends finding reason to reconnect, miserable old farts suddenly being merry…”

“Thoria!” Link elbowed her.

“What?”

Resper laughed. “Well. I see. So, you require my support?”

“Yes,” Thoria said. “The princess has asked me to request your assistance. To introduce the joy of Christmas to Hyrule, we need something the common man will enjoy. And the heart of Christmas is in its generosity. People give their time, their coin…” she gave the lord a meaningful look. “Doing as Saint Nick did, giving to those less fortunate.”

“And do you follow these traditions?”

“Damn right I do.” Thoria straightened, and Link winced. “I don’t remember everything about my former life, my lord, but I remember feeding the homeless. I remember giving to those who had little. I remember spending my free time working to see those with nothing had something. Would you not do the same, my lord?”

Resper gave a slow nod. “My lady, I already do. I live modestly, for a man of my station, to ensure those living in my holdings do not go without. I am sure you have seen them, how happy they are.”

“And wouldn’t that be wonderful to extend to the whole kingdom, if only for a day?” Thoria asked.

Resper nodded again. “That it would, my lady. But I fear the rupees of one man would do little to line the pockets of all the poor folk in the realm.”

“No,” Thoria said. “But we plan on asking everyone.”

Resper laughed. “Well, that is an ambitious goal. I shall make you a deal, then.” He rose, and Link and Thoria rose as well. He offered her his hand.

“If you manage to secure the patronage of the other noble houses, I shall most definitely assist you,” he said. “And I rather like this idea of Christmas. There is too little joy in the world, and during the dark days of winter, it would be nice to have something to look forward to.”

Thoria took his hand and shook it firmly. “That is my belief, my lord. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with a wink. Thoria suddenly brightened.

“I forgot,” she said. “Epona’s bag! I left a kit…” and she hurried out of the sitting room. Resper watched her go, a small, curious smile on his lips.

“What a woman,” he said, with a laugh. “You are fortunate, ser. So few women speak their mind and argue their cause as finely as she. Lady Thoria may rival the princess in her wit and smarts.”

“Mm.” Link gave a non-committal shrug. Resper gave him a shrewd and calculating look.

“A wise man would use this to his advantage,” he said, turning to face Link directly. “Tell me, ser. You know the princess well. Do I stand a chance of winning her heart?”

Link swallowed. Zelda had her sights set firmly on him, her Chosen Knight, he who was courting a potential danger to the kingdom, the woman he was sworn to guard and watch, to kill if she showed any hint of danger to the realm. He, who loved Thoria with all his being. Resper would be lucky if Zelda even spared him a thought.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She has a great many suitors, and I am only her Knight. She doesn’t share such… intimate details with me.”

Resper nodded. “I see. I may be more willing to assist your lady if there was more of an incentive. Though I must stress, the happiness of my people _is_ my incentive, it never hurts to have more.”

Link’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. “If I learn of anything that would give you an advantage, I will tell you,” he said. “But for now, all I know is that her Highness has little cause to laugh these days, and someone who can make her smile would do well, I think.”

Resper smiled. “There, now that is useful to me. I shall find what makes her smile, be it kind words, a joke, or simple slapstick comedy.” He tossed his teacup in the air and allowed it to bounce off his head. Link laughed politely.

Thoria bustled back into the sitting room, a wrapped parcel in her hands.

“Christmas starter kit,” she said, offering it to Resper. “There’s some decorations, a bit of wrapping paper, some gift ideas, and some notes on what to do.” She grinned. “Even if you don’t help us, that’s for you to make of Christmas what you will.”

Resper accepted the parcel and offered Thoria a genuinely warm smile in return. “Thank you, my lady. You are most generous. I shall think on your suggestion, and look forward to hearing from you both.”

He walked them to the door, where Epona was waiting by the gate.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Link said, shaking the lord’s hand after he kissed Thoria’s. She moved towards Epona, and Link leant in to Resper, grasping his hand tightly.

“This means everything to her,” he said. “And it would do Hyrule good.”

“I know,” Resper replied. “I will help, ser.”

Link smiled. “Thank you.” He leant in closer. “Zelda’s favourite flower is a cherryblossom, and her favourite dessert is a strawberry tart.”

Resper’s grin broadened. “Perhaps I shall be king yet, though I only want it to make life better for my people.”

“You and I both,” Link said. “You’d make a fine king, my lord.”

Resper sent them on their way with a wave, and Thoria hugged Link tightly from behind as they went.

“I think that went well,” she said. “One down.”

“And the rest of Hyrule to go,” Link replied. He twisted in the saddle and kissed her as Epona galloped across the realm. “I hope this works.”

“Me too, _mo ghaol_. Me too.”


	4. Link

Link and Thoria spent the next two days touring Hyrule to the best of their ability, seeking out the nobility of the realm and pleading their case. They were met with varying success. Lord Glasmoor had been jovial and enthusiastic, but asked a large favour to be named at a later date if he were to help. They had reluctantly agreed, knowing there was little else they could do, and as a new Lord, Glasmoor would likely ask for something ridiculous enough to refuse.

Lord Symper had seemed uninterested until he learned that Link would be there throughout the festival, promising his assistance if he could “borrow” the Hero for “five minutes” during the celebration. Link had agreed for Thoria’s sake, but only on the condition the five minutes was in a very public space.

Lord Myther had been miserable and antagonistic, ridiculing Thoria and making implications about her intelligence being subpar, as she was a woman. Thoria had responded with a series of sharp and accurate words that saw them turfed from the mansion. Link had to spend almost an hour convincing her to swallow her pride and apologise before he agreed to spare them a miserly five rupees for the cause.

Lord Denwealth, who had sent Thoria numerous letters following her debut at the ball celebrating her and Link’s defeat of a dragon terrorising Kakariko was welcoming and fawning, but reluctant to help. He had suggested he would change his mind should the Lady Thoria wish to convince him in a more intimate fashion. That had been the last straw for Link, who, already tired, cold, and annoyed by the noble's arrogance, frightened the lord so badly he had sent them away with a purse full of rupees and a promise there would be more for the feast.

“Warn me the next time you plan on doing that,” Thoria said, as they hurried away from the manor before Denwealth changed his mind and sent his guards after them. “That was terrifying.”

“I’m sorry,” Link said. “But I couldn’t have him speak to you like that.”

Thoria grinned. “It was a _good_ terrifying,” she said and touched his arm. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you would protect me.” 

Link managed a smile. “I’ll try not to do it again. If nothing else, people might begin to suspect about us.”

“People will anyway,” Thoria shrugged. “It’s normal. People love to gossip. So long as no one catches us in the act, we’ll be fine.”

Link nodded and placed his hands on her hips, lifting her into Epona’s saddle. She wiggled forwards as Link climbed up behind her, swinging both her legs over his own.

“Remember the last time we rode like this?” she said, as Link urged Epona into a canter and into the forest that surrounded Lord Denwealth’s estate.

“It was also the first,” Link said. “The day I pulled you out of Lake Hylia.”

Thoria smiled. “I’m glad you did. Not just because you saved my life, but because it was you.” She reached and kissed the edge of his jaw, her lips brushing the hollow under his ear.

Link shivered at her touch. “I’m glad too,” he said. “Where too now?”

Thoria shifted and pulled a piece of parchment from her cloak.

“Urgh,” she said. “The last one on the list is Articus Dool. That wanker who tried to show you up at the ball.”

“Him?” Link rolled his eyes. “There’s no point in going to him, Thoria. A more miserly bastard I’ve never met. He thinks everyone is beneath him.”

“We need everybody,” Thoria sighed. “That was Zelda’s terms. But you’re right that it would be hard. Let’s not go today. We’ve got half the day left, and I want to see Telma.”

“There’s no better excuse for visiting her bar,” Link agreed. “It’d be nice to see her. But I think you have an ulterior motive?”

“Me?” Thoria blinked innocently at him, and Link laughed, bending in the saddle to kiss her. Her hand looped around the back of his neck and pulled him close, her lips like fire against his own. He broke away, breathless, and swallowed.

“Let’s stop for a bit,” he said, slowing Epona to a walk. “These woods are pretty private.”

“You read my mind,” Thoria said. And with a wink, she slipped out of the saddle and dashed between the trees. Link followed, tying Epona to a branch. He found Thoria in a small clearing surrounded by tall bushes and thick trunks, her cloak spread on the snow, her shirt unbuttoned. Link pounced and they fell back with a laugh, and time seemed to stand still in a snow-covered grove in the middle of Hyrule.

XXXXXXX

After dropping Epona off at the castle stables, Link and Thoria hurried through Castle Town to Telma’s bar. They ducked inside to be greeted by a blast of hot, slightly smoky air and a blessedly empty taproom. They made their way to the bar as Telma bustled out.

“Link! Thoria! So good to see you little ducklings,” she said, wrapping them both in a bone-crushing hug, planting a loud kiss on their cheeks.

“It’s good to see you too,” Link said. “How’s business?”

“As well as it can be, this time of year,” Telma said with a hearty shrug. “People pop in for some good, hot food and honest ale. Sure, it’s quieter than normal, but that’s only to be expected with the solstice coming up.”

Thoria gave Link a significant look as they seated themselves at the bar. Telma gave wink and heaved a large barrel onto the surface, jamming a tap into the side.

“My signature hot, mulled cider,” she said. “A mug on the house. You look frozen.”

“It is cold out there,” Thoria said, accepting her mug. “Thanks. This smells divine.”

Link raised his own mug to his nose, smelling the sweet twist of orange, cloves and cinnamon muddling with the cider. He sipped and felt his body warm from his chest outwards.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “Care to share the recipe?”

“Oh no, honey,” Telma winked at him. “It’s an old family tradition, that. My family came from the hotter parts of the realm, according to the stories my old Nana used to tell. They didn’t much like the cold, so they came up with this.”

“I’m betting there’s a secret ingredient,” Link said. “I taste cinnamon, orange zest, cloves, and…” he took another sip. “Ginger?”

“You’ve got a good tongue in that mouth,” Telma said, with another wink. Thoria grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

“He does,” she said. “But that’s not the secret ingredient, is it?”

“Nope,” Telma said. “Can you guess?”

“Maybe if I had another mug,” Thoria said, waving her empty tankard. Telma laughed.

“If you guess, I’ll give you both another on the house.”

“Brandy,” Thoria said, instantly. Telma blinked, then guffawed.

“Oh, she’s a good one! Don’t go spreading my secret about now,” she took their mugs and refilled them. “Now, my puddings. How are you both? What’s happening in your world?”

Thoria gave a gentle shrug. “Oh, not much. We’re just trying to convince the nobility to share their coin in the spirit of goodwill so Zelda will let us celebrate Christmas in Hyrule.”

“Oh, is that all?” Telma gave her a fond look. “How’s that going?”

“Well enough,” Link said. “Considering.”

“What we really need is to start getting the word out,” Thoria said. “I’m confident we’ll raise the funds, but we need to tell the people. The more that know about Christmas, and are excited for it, the better, and the harder it’ll be for Zelda to deny them.”

Telma quirked a smile. “You’re a sly one, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of my many names,” she replied, raising her mug in a mock toast.

“What are your others?” Link asked, playfully.

“Hm. I don’t know, but I’ll answer to most things,” she said, ticking the names off on her fingers. “Thoria, Thor, Ria, Arsehole, Oi, and Get-out-of-my-Garden, usually.”

Link laughed loudly as Telma sniggered, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Well, I’m sure I can help you spread the word,” she said, straightening her apron. “What do you need me to do?”

Thoria grinned. “I’ll explain.” She turned to Link. “Would you do me a massive favour and grab that bag of decorations I’ve got by my bed?” she propped her chin on her hand. “Please?”

“Anything for you,” he said, draining the last of his cider and rising. He glanced around the bar, and seeing no one but Telma, who already knew their secret, kissed Thoria softly on the cheek. “I won’t be long.”

He ducked back out into the bitter chill as Thoria began to tell Telma about Christmas and her plan for Hyrule. The sky had darkened, heavy, grey clouds hanging low overhead. A few flakes of snow were already falling, and Link grimaced. It would be a heavy fall tonight.

He set off at a brisk pace, reaching the castle in good time. He hurried through, heading for Thoria’s rooms. He slipped inside and made for the bag of wrapped parcels, bending to reach them. But he stopped, his hand inches from the handles.

The paper was rumpled, as though the parcels had been opened and retied. Frowning, Link lifted the first and pulled the string, letting the paper open in his palm. He swore.

The parcel contained what had been glass baubles of red and silver with small golden threads attached to the top. But now, they were broken, large cracks running through the glass, or shattered completely. A fine powder settled at the bottom. It looked as though the parcel had been stamped on.

Furious, Link untied another parcel and found the ribbons Thoria had brought slashed and cut into small pieces. Another parcel revealed snowflakes made of cut card crumpled and smashed.

The entire bag of decorations had been destroyed. Link climbed to his feet, glaring about the room. Who had been in? Who had done this? Who could have possibly wanted to ruin Thoria’s idea? One of the nobles? Denwealth? No, he was too much of a coward. Resper? No, he was too enthusiastic about the idea. But then who?

Link shook his head. It didn’t matter who. All that mattered now was replacing what was broken.

He set off at a sprint, flying through the castle. He had an hour before the shops closed for the evening, and if he kept his pace, he would have time enough to buy something that would help Thoria and Telma tonight, at least.

He skidded round a corner and almost bowled Zelda over. Impa leapt in front of her and shoved him back.

“Mind yourself!” she barked. “You almost hurt the heir to the throne!”

“Sorry,” Link said. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Do not worry, Impa,” Zelda said. “Ser Link. What troubles you so?”

“Nothing,” Link said. “I just need to get back to Castle Town.”

“Where is Lady Thoria?” Zelda asked, peering along the corridor. “I know my father said she was allowed some more freedom, but I would prefer it if you watched her.”

“Castle Town,” Link said. “That’s why I have to go-“

“Oh, I’m sure she can manage without you for a moment more,” Zelda said, brightening. “Walk with me, Ser. It has been too long since we spent time together, has it not?”

“Zel- your Highness, I’d love to, but…”

“Your princess gave you an order,” Impa said, icily. “Obey it.”

Link set his jaw and glared at the Sheikah. “Pardon me, I’d be happy to accompany her highness, but-“

“Impa is right,” Zelda said, her voice soft and sweet. “Just for a few minutes, my dear Knight.” She laid a hand on his arm. Link forced himself to smile.

“As you command,” he said, and turned away, matching Zelda’s agonisingly slow pace as she walked away from his destination. He glanced out the window. Less than an hour.

“I do despise the winter,” Zelda said. “It is so frightfully cold, and dead. There is much death in the winter. I much prefer the spring, where there is new life abundant. Do you not agree, Link?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Winter’s bad. Yep.”

“What is your favourite season?”

“Autumn,” he said, not concentrating. The autumn smell of Thoria’s hair filled his mind, and he clenched his fists. She would be heartbroken about the ruined decorations. He had to do something!

“I see,” Zelda said. “Why is that?”

“It’s, uh, pretty,” he said. “The colours.”

“How nice,” Zelda said. She stopped in front of a tapestry and gazed up at it, Impa to her right. “I do love this piece. It tells the story of the great battle between the Zora and the octorock infestation. Such a charming little piece, do you not think, Link?”

“Uh,” Link glanced at the tapestry, showing many Zora chasing stitched octorocks with spears. “Yeah. Great.”

“Have you heard the story of how my great-great-grandmother, Zelda, assisted them?” the princess asked, her fingers digging into his forearm.

“No,” Link said. He glanced around again, and spotted an open window. He grinned. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Zelda smiled up at him, and released his arm. She stepped to the tapestry and began to speak, tracing her fingers over the ancient threads. Link stepped back to admire the whole tapestry, and stepped back again as Impa turned her head to watch the princess. As Zelda became absorbed in her tale, Link took another step, found the windowsill, sent a silent prayer to the Goddesses and Hylia that he wouldn’t get into too much trouble, and vaulted out the window.

He landed on a slick, snow covered roof. The angle was steep, and he began to slide, his feet digging trenches in the snow. He cursed, looking around. There was a tower to one side, and nothing to the other but empty space. He was picking up speed. He dug his fingers into the snow, seeking a hold, and found none. He cursed again.

The edge was approaching, fast. He scrabbled with his boots but did not stop his descent. Teeth clenched, he braced himself, and saw the stables below. He had only a second to act.

Planting his feet, he jumped, soaring though the bitter air as snow swirled about him, nothing below but the ground, far, far away, and the stables, and their snow covered, thatched roof. Link closed his eyes…

And crashed through the thatch to land in a large pile of hay. The horse in the stall brayed in alarm and kicked up his back legs. Link yelped and managed to duck, scrambling through the straw and dirt as the horse stamped and whinnied. He vaulted the door and ran to Epona’s stall, who was giving him an incredulous look.

“No time to explain,” he said, and opened her door. “I need to get back to Castle Town, now!”

Epona snorted, and Link swung onto her back, gripping the base of her mane. With a whinny, she clattered out into the snow and bolted across the grounds, heading for the town. Link glanced at the sky. Half an hour.

Reaching the edge of town, Link pulled Epona to a halt, her hooves skidding on the path. He leapt down.

“Good girl,” he said, patting her. “Hurry back to the castle before you’re missed.” And he sprinted for the shops as Epona huffed and began trotting back the way they came. Link had barely made it to the square before he was surrounded by a gaggle of street urchins, all jumping about and running around him, their raggedy scarves and coats flapping.

“Mr Hero! Mr Hero!” they chanted. “Play with us!” one grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Link said, looking up. Fifteen minutes.

“Whyyyyyyyyyyy?” chorused the children. “Play with us, or we’ll cry!”

“No, don’t,” Link said, as hands tugged his cloak and tunic. “I’m… on an important mission, I can’t wait.”

“What mission?” they clamoured.

“A secret one,” he said. Then, he smiled. Thoria had said children loved Christmas. “But I’ll tell you, if you promise to keep it a secret?” he knew full well they wouldn’t. The children stopped pawing at him and looked up expectantly.

“I’ve heard that Father Christmas is coming to Hyrule,” he said. “He brings presents for good boys and girls. I’m supposed to help prepare Hyrule for his arrival.”

“When’s he coming?” they asked.

“On Solstice Night,” he said. “Now, I have to go. Be good?”

“How good do we have to be?” one of the children asked, but Link was already hurrying away.

He skidded into the bric-a-brac shop with two minutes to spare. He sped through the shop, swiping as many oddments that looked like Thoria’s decorations as he could into his arms. He clattered the counter as the shopkeeper eyed him with mild amusement mixed with irritation.

“I won’t have time to wrap these,” she said, nodding at the timepiece on the wall. “I’ve got to feed Jimmy, here.” She patted the head of a sweet, wide-eyed four year old. “He’s such a sweet, innocent boy. I must keep him safe from all the evils and naughtiness in this world.”

“That’s fine, a bag will do,” Link said, watching as she swept his purchases into a paper bag.

“Thirty-five rupees,” she said, looking at him expectantly. Link dug into his pocket for his wallet, and found nothing. His heart stopped. He frantically searched his pockets, his cloak, even his hat, before he realised just why the urchin children had been pawing at him.

He swore loudly enough to make the shopkeeper scream.


	5. Zelda

Zelda strode out of the council meeting, seething, a sheaf of parchment under her arm detailing the topics discussed. With the approaching solstice, all her council members had been assigned their annual tasks to ensure all her holdings were observing the traditions so that her people had enough food and wood to see them through the winter.

The meeting had been productive, for the most part. It was only at the end, as she asked for any other business to be announced, when Councillor Llewellyn mentioned that the talk of the town was something called Christmas, and some folk had been speaking of a celebration to occur on the day of the solstice.

Zelda had managed to maintain her composure, barely. She briefly outlined the stranger’s plan to the council, reminding them that the support of the greater noble houses was required, and unlikely to be given, before instructing the council to continue in their preparations.

Now, she slammed into her chambers, Impa following with a swirl of her cloak.

“I cannot believe this,” the princess exclaimed, tossing her papers onto her desk. “Not only does Link directly insult me by leaving my side against my expressed wishes, but it seems he and that stranger have been gallivanting about the town, getting people’s hopes up for a celebration that is not going to happen!”

She threw herself into her armchair by the fire.

“My people struggle enough as it is,” she said. “I cannot have their morale lessened further by promises that cannot be kept. I am flabbergasted by Ser Link. He must truly be under a spell for him to defy me so.”

“It is most uncharacteristic,” Impa said with her usual calm tone. She added another log to the embers of the fire, stoking the coals to tease out tongues of flame. “Though he seems very taken with this idea of Christmas. Do you truly think it will be a bad idea to celebrate it?”

“Of course I do,” Zelda said, huddling in her chair. “It is a pagan holiday from whatever godforsaken world the stranger is from. It can bring nothing but trouble. Our own celebrations and traditions are more than sufficient, as they have been for hundreds of years.”

Impa sighed, running a hand over the mantlepiece. “Is it not worth a chance, Zelda?” she said. “The decorations, whilst gaudy, could be taxed, bringing in revenue for the crown. And I do imagine morale would be boosted, not to mention the people would be grateful to us and the nobility for spending what would be only a little coin in the grand scheme of things.”

Zelda eyed her aide darkly. “Are you agreeing with the stranger, old friend?”

Impa met her gaze. “No, Zelda. But I am trying to be pragmatic, as I have always taught you to be. Make the best of a bad situation, and turn it to your advantage.”

“There is no advantage in the stranger taking over Hyrulean customs!” Zelda snapped. “She is systematically trying to lessen my hold on the kingdom, to destabilise us. All the better to bring about the dark times prophesised.”

Impa let out a tiny sigh. “As you say, Zelda. You are wise and can see things most of us cannot. But I urge you to not blinker yourself to potential gain simply because it was an enemy who suggested it.”

Zelda folded her arms. “Name one occasion when an enemy has done something for the betterment of my kingdom.”

“I can name several,” Impa said. “But the example that springs most readily to mind is when Lorula, an ancient Sheikah enemy took over our sect and tried to warp our code of honour. Though he was a foolish and egomaniacal man, his military expertise was extraordinary. The Sheikah arts of war were bettered by his teachings. We overthrew him using his own techniques and were better able to serve the royal family.”

“Hmph.” Zelda glared at the fire. “Fine. But I do not want this to happen, Impa. I sense a great shadow looming. Something is coming, and I would not have anything constructed by the stranger infecting my people’s minds and hearts. Who is to say that this Christmas is even real? Who is to say it is not a figment of her imagination? Her memory of her former life is poor enough when it suits her.”

“True, her memory seems to return when convenient,” Impa said. Then, she sighed, long and deep. “Zelda, you know my heart and loyalty is yours. If you wish it, I will do all I can to stop Christmas from coming.”

“But how?” Zelda asked.

Impa took a seat close by. “I already took down the decorations as you instructed,” she said. “And destroyed what I found in Lady Thoria’s room. Unless I know more of her plans, there is little I can do. I propose to spy on the Lady Thoria and Link, to learn what I can.”

Zelda nodded. “Start with the town,” she said. “Learn where these rumours are coming from. I cannot believe my Link would use his Heroic status to spread lies, but…”

“He has already disobeyed you,” Impa said, her eyes darkening. “For that, he must be punished.”

A dark weight settled in Zelda’s chest. She was loath to harm her darling Hero, but his actions had hurt her deeply. She remembered turning, engrossed in her tale, waiting to see his raptured expression, to find him gone, and an open window letting in the freezing air. She had raced over and seen a trail in the snow and collapsed, convinced Link had jumped to his death, under the spell of the stranger.

She had been inconsolable until a guard reported Epona trotting back to the castle alone, and the pieces fell into place. He had snuck away, deliberately, and escaped, running back to Castle Town where that thrice-damned stranger was! Fury overtook her despair, and she spent the next hour shrieking in rage in her chambers, throwing pillows and vases and whatever else she could get her hands on before commissioning another assassin to end the stranger’s life. As with those she sent before, he did not return, and the stranger swanned around the castle like she owned the place.

Now, she steepled her fingers and looked into the fire.

“No,” she said. “I must bide my time. My Hero is under a spell, and his actions are not his own. I cannot punish an innocent man.”

Impa rolled her eyes. “As you command,” she said. “I shall begin my investigations now, unless there is anything you need?”

“No, go.” Zelda stared at the dancing flames. “I must do what I can to control the damage that is already spreading. I shall instruct the council and my heralds to spread word of the solstice traditions. Though I feel we should not fret too much. The stranger will never convince the nobility to part with their hard-earned coin. Without their support, there will not be enough resources to host this grand feast for the commoners.”

“As you command,” Impa repeated, and slipped silently from the room. Zelda leant back in her chair and conjured a small golden light in the palm of her hand. She closed her eyes and prayed to Hylia for guidance, to Din for strength, to Nayru for wisdom, and to Farore for the courage to fight the evil seeping into her kingdom.

XXXXXXX

Zelda jerked awake, her neck aching, as Impa appeared at her shoulder. The fire had burned down again, and the sky outside was dark.

“What did you learn?” she asked the Sheikah, as Impa tossed another handful of coal into the fireplace.

“The bar owned by Telma has been decorated in the Christmas fashion,” Impa said. “And Telma herself is parroting Lady Thoria’s descriptions of Christmas, whipping the people into a frenzy about it.” She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small stick, curved in the fashion of a shepherd’s crook, coloured with white and red stripes. “She is handing these out as favours,” Impa explained.

“What on earth is it?” Zelda asked, taking the small stick. She brought it up to her eyes and blinked as an unmistakeable waft of peppermint crept up her nose.

“They call it a candy cane,” Impa said, shaking her head. “A tradition, apparently, amongst a hundred others. You hang them on the trees.”

“This is food,” Zelda said, exasperated. “Why hang food?”

“Why is the sky blue?” Impa shrugged. “I do not have all the answers. Telma has one of these trees in her bar, and people are already leaving wrapped gifts underneath it.”

“Who for?”

“The unfortunates, apparently,” Impa said. “Those who struggle year-round.”

“How… considerate,” Zelda said. She straightened in her chair. “A very good idea. I can see, perhaps, how we can turn this Christmas to our advantage if simple barfolk can come up with such a plan.”

Impa winced. “Zelda, it was the Lady Thoria’s idea.”

Zelda clenched her fists, and the candy cane snapped. “Of course it was.” She sighed. “Let me guess. Another tradition?”

“Yes. Giving presents is a Christmas tradition, but it is usually to family and friends. These were left by kindhearted people for those with nothing, which apparently also occurs.”

“Convenient,” Zelda hissed. She thrust the broken candy cane back at Impa. “Get rid of this. I do not want it.”

“As you command.” Impa took the two halves and retreated.

An hour passed before Zelda decided to head to bed, exhausted from her worrying about the dangers of what this Christmas could mean. As Impa tucked the blankets around her shoulders, she noticed her breath smelled lightly of peppermint.


	6. Link

With less than a week to go before their deadline, Link hurried across Hyrule on Epona, Thoria clinging around his middle. The anxiety that had sat in his chest since he had escaped Zelda had not lessened, for he had not seen the princess since.

He had managed to buy the decorations from the shopkeeper after many heartfelt apologies for swearing in front of her precious child, and with a promise that he would pay her double the items worth on his return, on his honour as the Hero of Twilight. Much to his intense relief, he had found the urchins outside the shop, who returned his wallet and all its contents, stating that they wanted to be good for Father Christmas so he would bring them presents.

After giving the children a good talking to about stealing, he gave them each a blue rupee and sent them on their way, promising to put in a good word to Santa for them.

Exhausted and covered in hay, horse dirt and snow, he trooped back to Telma’s bar and relayed the whole story to Telma, Thoria and half the bar. They then set about decorating the taproom, and a tree that had somehow appeared in the corner. Thora refused to tell him how she had managed to convince the grumpy and reclusive lumberjack to deliver one on such short notice, stating only that she had ‘worked a little Christmas magic.’

Now, they were riding for Lord Dool’s estate, two hours away from the capital on a good day, four in the current weather. Snow was sleeting down from an iron grey sky, and Link refused to urge Epona into anything faster than a gentle canter. If she slipped and broke a leg… it didn’t bear thinking about.

Thoria shifted in the saddle behind him.

“Is it much further?” she asked. “We’ve still got loads to do.”

“Another half an hour,” Link said. “At least.” He pointed, where a dark smudge sat on the horizon. “That’s his holdings. We’ll be as quick as we can, but I don’t know what more we can do to convince Zelda than what we’re doing.”

“As much as we can,” she said, her voice determined. “The people seem to be warming to the idea. The fact that people are already leaving gifts for those less fortunate is incredible.”

Link smiled, despite the biting wind and grim feeling on his shoulders. “It is. You were right about this Christmas thing.”

“Duh,” she said, squeezing his middle. “People can be kind and generous without an excuse, but often an excuse is needed to give them a little nudge in the right direction.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad.” Link steered Epona around a patch of ice. “And I’m glad people are warming to the idea. It makes me happy to see you happy.”

“I’ll be happier once we’ve got this over with,” Thoria said, waving at the looming town before them. “My hopes aren’t high.”

“It’ll be fine,” Link said. “We can only do what we can. Just think, once he’s agreed, we’ve got every noble Zelda wanted on board, and then we can go ahead with the rest of the planning.”

Thoria didn’t respond, but she laid her head on his shoulder as they approached Dool’s holdings.

The town was a sprawling mess, the buildings crooked and in desperate need of repair. The people hurried out of the way as Epona trotted down the street, daintily sidestepping gaps in the stone. They were thin and haggard, their eyes downcast. They eyed the pair on horseback warily as they wound through the narrow streets, coming at last to a huge mansion, separated from the town by twelve-foot high walls.

A pair of guards shivered by the gate, their armour rattling. Link introduced them and handed Epona to another guard, standing in the slushy snow with Thoria, the sleet thudding against the back of their hoods. They waited, and waited, the minutes crawling by. Thoria huddled a little closer, and Link had to resist putting his arm around her. He couldn’t risk it.

After twenty minutes had passed, a harried butler appeared at the gate to show them inside. He took them to an opulent sitting room that had columns in it, of all things. Link and Thoria made for the sofa nearest the fire and sank down, shivering and dripping sleet onto the rug.

Another ten minutes passed before Lord Dool finally made an appearance. He was dressed in a thickly padded jerkin over a quilted tunic, a cigar in one hand.

“So,” he said, approaching. He cast a disapproving eye over the puddle forming at their feet. “What do you want?”

Thoria managed a charming smile. “To ask your favour, on behalf of the Princess Zelda.”

Dool raised his eyebrows as he settled in a wing-backed armchair.

“What could our beloved princess need that is so desperate as to send her Chosen Knight and his… charge, to my door?” he asked.

Thoria glanced at Link as the butler appeared, carrying a teapot. He swallowed. His throat was a little dry, and the fire wasn’t quite warming him as he had hoped. But the butler poured a single cup and handed it to Dool, before bowing his way out of sight. Thoria fixed her smile back in place.

“She, we’re… planning a celebration for the winter solstice,” she said. She glanced at Link again. “Christmas. Princess Zelda has asked that all the great noble houses donate a small sum to the effort.”

“She does, does she?” Dool raised his cup and blew a curl of steam off the rim. A chunk of ash fell from the end of his cigar, and a servant appeared as if from nowhere to catch it in a glass dish. Dool glared at them.

“Be quicker next time,” he snapped, and the servant retreated hastily.

“So,” Dool said again. “The princess wants _my_ help, does she?”

“Yours, and the other noble houses,” Thoria said. “We already have their support.”

Dool’s eyes flashed.

“You went to them before you came to me?” he said, his voice low. Link tensed, his fingers itching to reach up and grasp the hilt of his sword. “How dare you. I am the most esteemed Lord of Hyrule, and you come to me last?”

Link felt Thoria stiffen beside him, and stole a glance at her. Her expression was rigid, frozen in that same smile. Her throat bobbed.

“Forgive us, my Lord,” she said, her voice dripping with honey. “When I am from, we save the best for last, to savour the final experience without tainting it.” Her fists balled in her lap, her knuckles white.

Dool curled his lip. “You have much to learn, woman,” he said. “But I shall overlook it this time, as you are so clearly uneducated on our customs.” He glanced at Link. “I would have thought you would have taught her properly, or is she incapable of learning?”

Link clenched his jaw. There was no way to answer without inadvertently insulting Thoria. He opted for pained silence. Dool smiled.

“I thought so. Tell me. What does Zelda need my assistance for?” he directed the question at Link, but Thoria answered, giving a brief outline of their plan to celebrate Christmas by providing a feast for the people of Hyrule. Dool spared her a bored look, and sipped his tea.

“What a waste of money,” he sniffed. “And a waste of my valuable time listening to such a proposal. I shall not indulge this foolishness. Inform her esteemed highness that I have more important matters to attend to, such as the welfare of my own people.”

“Yeah, they look really well cared for,” Thoria snapped. “If you want to help people, then donate to the cause, like Zelda wants.”

“Does she really want that, though?” Dool said. He peered at Thoria, whose expression was stony. Link chewed his lip. Dool’s eyes flicked to Link, and he grinned, flashing a wink of gold tooth.

“I see.” He rose. “You have wasted your time, and more importantly, mine. You have dripped all over my home and befouled my carpet.” He flicked his cigar in their direction, scattering ash again, the servant scrambling to catch it. He stumbled and fell, and both Thoria and Link bent to help him at the same time. The man cringed away and scurried to cower against the wall as Dool coughed, delicately.

“In case I have not made myself clear,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

Thoria leapt to her feet. “The goddesses pay in kind what man gives out,” she said. “You shall receive your reward when your time comes.”

Dool smiled. “That I shall, woman. Now do I have to tell you a second time, or is your woefully inadequate female brain actually capable or following orders?”

Thoria whirled and strode from the room, hissing curses under her breath.

Link turned to Dool.

“My Lord, you should reconsider,” he said. “The princess would be grateful.” He stepped a little closer. Dool was another of Zelda’s suitors. Resper had promised more support for assistance with courting the princess.

“The princess should be grateful for many things,” Dool said, eyeing Link. “Not least that I allowed you to win our little sparring match at the ball.”

Link kept his expression neutral. He had bested Lord Dool in an arm wrestle the last time they had come face to face, humiliating the lord and causing him to be removed from the celebration following a very ungentlemanly outburst. Dool was now claiming he had _allowed_ Link to win? He remained silent.

“A wise man holds his words, so the fables say,” Dool remarked, sticking his cigar in his mouth. “I believe that is nonsense. A wise man is unafraid of speech. A wise man always knows what to say.”

“My Lord,” Link said. “I would provide my assistance to you if you help us. I know you are courting Zelda. I am her Chosen Knight. I can offer a great many insights into her Highness’s personality, the things she enjoys…”

Dool began to laugh.

“As if I require the help of some young upstart,” he chortled. “Have you any idea how many women I have wooed? It is a simple thing, their minds are so easy to manipulate. A wise man knows how.” He tapped the side of his head. “I do not require your assistance in winning Zelda’s fair hand. Though, I expect she would be troubled to learn that her most trusted Knight is offering her intimate secrets in return for a few rupees.”

He let the statement hang in the air. Link took a step back, feeling the colour drain from his face.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

Dool merely smiled. “Get out.”

Link strode to the door as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Outside, he jogged across the huge courtyard to the gates. Thoria was on the other side, patting Epona’s neck and glaring at the ground.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“None,” Link spat, all but jumping into the saddle. Thoria climbed up behind him and they set off. “Unless you count him threatening me as luck.”

“What?” Thoria stiffened behind him. “What did he say?”

Link remained silent until they left Dool’s miserable holdings far behind. As always, Thoria kept her silence, waiting for him to speak, never pushing.

“I… made a mistake,” Link said. “I offered to help him court Zelda.”

Thoria sucked in her breath. “Shit. That… wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done.”

“It worked for Resper,” Link said. “I know he already agreed to help us, but he asked for help with Zelda in exchange for more aid. I told him a few things she likes.”

Thoria sighed. “ _Mo ghaol._ Dool is not Resper. They’re chalk and cheese.”

“I know,” Link said. He took a hand off the reins and found Thoria’s, squeezing it. “But I wanted him to agree. I wanted to make this work for you. I know how much it means to you.”

“You didn’t have to attempt a deal with the devil,” Thoria admonished, gently. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly. “I appreciate it, _leannan_. How did he threaten you?”

“He said he’d tell Zelda I’d been selling her secrets,” Link muttered.

“He better not,” Thoria said, and her voice was dark. “I meant what I said before. Men are paid in kind for the deeds they do.”

“Meaning?”

“Karma is the mother of all bitches.”

They rode in silence for a time, the sleet hammering down. The sky was darkening as the walls of Castle Town came into view, faint on the horizon. Soon, they trotted through the town, only a few people braving the weather on the streets.

“What do we do now?” Link said. “Zelda wanted all the great noble houses to agree to this celebration. Without Dool…”

Thoria snorted. “We don’t need him.”

Link twisted to look at her. Her emerald eyes were glittering. “What do you mean?”

“Denwealth gave us extra money after you made him shit himself,” she said. “We can just say that’s a down payment from Dool and come up with the rest of the money ourselves.”

“But-“

“Dool said it himself, he thinks it’s a waste of time,” Thoria said. “He’ll have nothing more to do with it. No one will know.”

“Unless he tells Zelda I’m a traitor,” Link said.

Thoria squeezed him. “He won’t. He probably thinks he’s scared you, and he’s gloating. He won’t consider you enough of a threat to make good on his.”

“Should I be insulted?” Link said, leaving the town behind and guiding Epona towards the castle grounds and the stables. “Because I feel like I should be insulted.”

They made their cold way back upstairs. Thoria steered Link away from her own rooms and directed him to his, where she ran a steaming hot bath in the larger tub. With a smile, she brought him close and kissed him, pulling his wet cloak off his shoulders.

They sank into the hot water, and Link groaned as the heat began to melt away the aches of the day. Thoria leant against his chest, her hair an inky waterfall against his skin. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, tracing patterns on her arm with his fingers. They didn’t speak, and lay there in companionable silence until the water cooled, and they crawled into bed, too tired and anxious to do anything more than hold each other as the night deepened into blackness.


	7. Link

Link awoke to find his bed empty, and a note on his bedside table.

_Mo ghaol, mo leannan,_

_I’ve had the best idea ever. I’ll be in the study room to the left of the astronomy tower. No one ever goes in there._

_I probably won’t have eaten. Bring food._

_Tha gaol agam ort,_

_Thoria_

Link folded the parchment and slipped it into his pocket as he dressed. One day, he would have to ask her to teach him Ancient Hylian. The words meant nothing to him, even with Hylian lettering. He infiltrated the kitchens, swiping an armful of cured meats, cheese and bread, as well as a jug of hot apple juice for good measure, before making his way to the study room Thoria mentioned.

She met him at the door with a kiss, and bent to take a bite of bread from his arms before skipping back to the solitary desk, covered with parchment. Link stared down at the bread and the enormous bite missing from the middle of it, before shrugging and moving to the only other chair in the small room and portioning out the food.

“What’re you working on?” he asked, handing her a rustic sandwich.

Thoria took a huge bite before answering. “Mufc,” she said.

Link smiled. “Pardon?”

She swallowed and produced a sheaf of parchment covered in neat musical scores. Link raised his eyebrows.

“Music,” she said.

Link took the parchment and glanced over it, seeing the beginnings of a beautiful melody. “I thought you couldn’t read music?” he said. “Let alone write it. This looks like something you’d play in an orchestra.”

Thoria blinked, and two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks.

“Er… I guess the Christmas spirit has awakened more of my memory?” she said, with a lopsided grin. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The concertmaster owes me a favour. I’m going to get them to play this for Zelda. If she isn’t moved by it, she’s getting coal for Christmas.”

“Coal?”

“Father Christmas gives naughty children coal for Christmas instead of presents,” Thoria said, as though that sentence was the most normal thing in the world. “But it’s better than Krampus. He sticks naughty kids in a sack and beats them with a willow switch. Or eats them. Depends on the story.”

Link laughed. “Now that’s something I want to hear about. Your legends are insane.”

“Says the man who’s lived half a hundred lives and saved the realm as many times,” she said.

“Touché,” Link grinned and took a bite of his own sandwich. “All the same. This music is impressive. It takes real skill to write something like this.”

“Flattery will get you right into my trousers,” she observed, dryly. But she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You want to show this to Zelda?”

“I want to have it played for her. But it’s not all I’m working on.”

She held up another sheet of parchment with more notes on it. This one had words as well. Link took it and read it over.

“What language is this? It’s not Hylian, Ancient or otherwise.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s called _Ode to Joy_. It sounds better in this tongue, trust me.”

“How does it sound?”

“Kinda like how it’s read.” She plucked the parchment from his fingers and passed him another.

“Ah, I can read this one,” Link said, grinning. He hummed the tune, getting a feel for it, and sang.

“ _O, holy night, the stars are brightly shining…_ ”

Thoria gave a theatrical shiver. “Beautiful. I’ve got a couple of these all ready. If we can get a small group together to learn them, we can sing them in Castle Town.”

Link chuckled at her enthusiasm and passed the parchment back. “Why?”

“They’re Christmas carols,” she said. “It’d be great for people to hear them. They’re real earworms, too.”

“What?”

“People will remember them.”

“You’re weird.”

“Thank you.”

Link laughed and rose to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her as her quill danced over the parchment, copying the music onto several sheets.

“Who would sing with us?” she mused aloud. “You don’t have to be a good singer, but it helps if you’re carolling.”

Link shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure I could round up a few people.”

“Would you?” Thoria turned and kissed him properly. “Great idea. Meet in Telma’s bar in two hours?”

Link groaned and held her closer. “Stop sending me away.”

“I know Zelda wants you to watch me, but I’ve got more freedom now,” she said.

“It’s not that,” Link said, burying his face in her shoulder. “I just don’t like being away from you.”

Thoria laid down her quill and twisted in her chair to embrace him.

“It’s only for a little while,” she said. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. Plus, I’ll get this big piece done faster if I’m not distracted by how sexy you are.”

Link chuckled and rose. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

He stopped at the door as she waved, already bending back to her work. The words _I love you_ rose in his throat, but he pushed them down. It wasn’t the right time to say them yet. He had to be sure they’d be safe from Zelda’s wrath before he did.

XXXXXXX

Link stepped into the warm bar to be greeted by Telma’s wide backside as she mopped the floor. She rose and turned, favouring him with a wide smile.

“Link, honey! To what do I owe the pleasure at such an early hour?”

“Link?” another voice said. Shad was tucked next to the fire with a large book open on the table before him. “Jolly good to see you, old boy.”

Telma crushed him in a hug and Shad shook his hand before Link could get a proper look at the bar. The decorations were as lovely as they had been when they were first put up, ribbons of red and gold entwined with each other, winding around the walls, bushels of holly and ivy placed decoratively around the taproom, wreaths on the walls, and tiny candles on every surface. The crowning glory was the pine tree in the corner, covered with ribbon and baubles and sweets and tiny fairylights, the little fae creatures glowing stubbornly bright in their bottles.

“I need your help,” Link said, turning to his friends at last.

“Anything, old boy,” Shad said, eagerly. Telma nodded.

“Yes, honey. Is this to do with Christmas?”

“Yeah.” Link said. “Thoria’s writing music. She wants people to sing in Castle Town to get people in a festive mood. I don’t know many people who can who’d be willing to do it with us.”

Telma laughed. “Well honey, I’ve been known to carry a tune or two in a bucket in my time. I’d be glad to help.” She grabbed Shad and pulled him to her side. He squeaked and righted his glasses. “I’m sure Shad here would be happy to help as well.”

“Oh,” Shad blushed. “I’m-I’m really not one for getting up in front of a crowd, dearest Telma…”

“You can ‘dearest Telma’ me when you join us,” she said, with a hearty chuckle. “Go on, book boy. It sounds like fun!”

She turned to Link as Shad disentangled himself.

“What are we singing, then?”

“Thoria’s writing the music,” Link repeated. “I saw a few sheets.”

He sang the first few lines of O Holy Night, and Telma clapped her hands.

“How lovely! That made me go all tingly.” She grinned. “When’s our beautiful Thoria joining us?”

“In a few hours,” Link said. “She’s working on a big piece to show Zelda.”

“Well then,” Telma said. “No point in us just dallying about! How’s about I rustle up some food for you, honey. Or an ale?”

Link grinned and nodded at the mop discarded on the floor. “Only if you’ll let me finish that for you.”

Telma swooped on him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You have yourself a deal, honey.”

XXXXXXX

The time seemed to crawl by. Link hummed under his breath, trying to practice his scales as quietly as possible so he didn’t disturb Shad, who was still pouring over his book. Telma, on the other hand, sang boisterously, belting out whatever song came to mind. Most of them were tavern songs. Her voice was surprisingly pleasant to listen to. She surreptitiously changed the sign on the bar to ‘closed.’

Link was about to go mad with boredom when the door swung open and Thoria made her appearance, rosy cheeked and carrying a stack of parchment.

“Hi guys!” she said, as Telma bounded across the bar to hug her. Shad rose more cautiously to shake her hand, before Thoria pulled him into a hug as well.

“I’m guessing Link’s told you about the plan?” she said.

The others nodded.

“Right! Excellent.” Thoria clapped her hands and shed her gloves, cloak and hat. She distributed sheets of parchment to all of them. “I’m thinking a basic quartet. Can you all sing something for me?”

Link laughed. “You’ve heard me sing.”

“Not enough,” she said, with a grin. “Your voice is amazing.”

“Yes, he puts us all to shame,” Telma said, and proceeded to sing a bawdy song about a milkmaid who mistook a bullock for her cow. Once Thoria had stopped laughing at the lyrics, she turned to Shad.

“Your turn,” she said. Shad went scarlet and tried to hide behind his book.

“I-I’d really rather not,” he said. “I can’t sing, dear Thoria.”

“Oh, go on,” she said. “I’ll sing too!” and she sang a line from one of the carols. Shad sighed.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And he sang a line from an old Hylian nursery rhyme. Link’s eyebrows shot up. Shad’s voice, normally so quiet and meek, was as deep and rich as a chocolate river. His blush deepened and he tried to hide behind his book again.

“Shad, that was amazing!” Link said. Telma and Thoria agreed loudly. Once they had coaxed Shad out from behind his book, Thoria straightened.

“Okay,” she said. “I think I know how to work this.” She pointed at herself “Lead.” She pointed at Telma. “Tenor.” She pointed at Link. “Baritone. Obviously.” She pointed at Shad. “And bass. Absolutely bass.”

“Why’re you the lead?” Link asked.

“Because I know the songs, duh,” she said.

“That’s not how a quartet works.”

“Bite me.”

“Careful with that talk,” he murmured, so only she could hear. She grinned as he winked.

“Okay, let’s start with ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,’ she said. “And a one, and a two…”

XXXXXXX

A couple of hours later, feeling confident that the songs were firmly lodged in everyone’s memory, Link stepped outside for a breath of cold, crisp air. The sky was clear again, though the snow was thick on the ground. He climbed the steps and leant on the railing, watching the crowds of people milling about. He smiled. The practice had been a great success, once Shad had gotten over his stage fright. Who knew the skinny little scholar had such an impressive bass?

He sighed a cloud, watching it dissipate in the air, and tried to keep the smile on his face. With only a few days until the solstice, it would take a miracle for them to pull Christmas off. Impa had seemed impressed when Link handed over the heavy bag of rupees from the nobility, and she had promised to take the message to Zelda that the feast could go ahead. Something told him the Sheikah was telling the truth, though he felt that there would be more obstacles to overcome.

“Mr Hero?” he felt a tug at the hem of his tunic and immediately grabbed for his wallet, pulling away. He looked down to see the group of urchins who had stolen from him the other day around his feet.

“Yes?” he asked, not unkindly.

“We wanted to say we’re sorry again,” the oldest of them said, a little boy with pinched cheeks and big, brown eyes. “We don’t want Father Christmas to ignore us for being bad.”

Link softened his face into a smile. “He won’t. I’m sure he knows that you’re sorry, and you only did it because you were hungry. But that doesn’t make stealing okay.”

“We know,” the boy said. “But we’ve been tryin’ to do good. We’ve been shovellin’ snow and carryin’ boxes and things to help people out, so Father Christmas gives us something nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Link said. “I’m sure he’d be very pleased with you.” He made a mental note to buy a gift for each of the children before him and find a way to get it to them.

“We wanna know if we can help _you_ ,” the boy said.

Link opened his mouth to say ‘sorry, but no,’ when Thoria came out of the bar, waving to Telma and Shad. A grin spread over his face as he looked down at the raggedy bunch of children.

“I think there is something you can do,” he said. “Can any of you sing?”


	8. Zelda

Zelda paced in her private study. She had spent the last few hours writing letters to the nobility of Hyrule, thanking them for their generous donations. Each elegant word inscribed on the parchment felt like a betrayal of their customs, and she had to stop after each to compose herself. As the last was drying, Impa arrived with a small plate of baked goods.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said, as Zelda took a seat at her desk once more. Her desk faced the window, showing an icy blue sky framed by the snow piled on her windowsill. The fire to the side crackled merrily.

“Thank you,” Zelda picked up a small pastry with a sugared crust and holly decal on the top. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second longer than a blink. “What is this?”

“It’s a mince pie,” Impa said. “The cooks are making them, these are their second batch. They’re very nice.”

“A meat pie with sugar on it?” Zelda wrinkled her nose. “How vile.”

“It isn’t meat,” Impa said. “It is dried fruits, sugar and spices. Try it.”

Hesitantly, Zelda took a small bite of the crust. It was thick and sweet. She nibbled around the edge under Impa’s watchful eye until she could avoid it no longer, and sank her teeth into the filling. To her complete surprise, the blend of spices and fruit, mixed with what was unmistakeably a hint of brandy, was delightful.

She finished the pie silently. “It is acceptable,” she declared. Impa smiled.

“A Christmas tradition,” she said, and Zelda flinched. “They will be served at the feast. Preparations are well underway.”

“And what of your task?” Zelda said, turning to Impa fully. “Did I not instruct you to prevent this?”

Impa’s smile faded.

“I have done what I can,” she said. “I have spread the word of the solstice, of Hylia and the Three, of our traditions. People are observing them, your Highness.”

“And what of stopping the stranger’s plans?”

Impa’s sigh was irritable. “I cannot stop what I cannot predict, Zelda. I have no knowledge of Christmas other than what I have been shown. And, much to my own disappointment, I have not been able to tail the Lady Thoria or Ser Link to discover their next moves. Wherever I think they will be, they are not.”

“Then instruct the guards to tear down anything Christmassy they see!” Zelda snapped. “Must I do everything myself?”

Impa lowered herself to sit on the sofa.

“Zelda, the most common thing I have learned this week is that people are excited for Christmas,” she said. “If we tell the guards to destroy it, if we ban it, it will only serve to infuriate the people, and encourage them to go about it in their own way.”

“It is a waste of time,” Zelda said. “The people must learn to adhere to tradition, not to gallivant about like fools during the hardest times of the year.”

“Then let them discover that for themselves,” Impa said. “If you just tried to see the good this could bring-“

“Enough,” Zelda pressed a hand to her forehead. “We have had this argument more times than I care to mention. If you will not put a stop to this Christmas, then I shall have to find another way.”

Impa nodded. “As you command, your Highness. But I would advise against it.”

Zelda smiled. “And I hear your council, old friend. Fear not, I will not ban this celebration. I will not tear down the trees and burn the mistletoe. But Christmas will fail. Of that, you can be sure.”

“But in the meantime,” Impa said. “We have a celebration to plan. The cooks are already preparing a feast large enough to feed the whole town and more. But there is the matter of where to host it.”

Zelda gave a dainty sigh. “I suppose the town itself would be inappropriate. It is too cold, and the nobility would not want to sit in the street.”

“You are right. That leaves the castle,” Impa said. “The great hall is large enough to host half the realm, if we had to.”

“Very well. See to the preparations.”

Impa nodded. “I would require the Lady Thoria’s input for that, Zelda.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Why?”

“Because it is she who understands these traditions.”

“Have the hall bare for all I care,” Zelda sniffed.

Impa chuckled. “As you command. Although, I cannot help but imagine what the greater houses would think if they attended a celebration in the great hall of Hyrule castle that is worse decorated than the streets of Castle Town.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. “You make an irritatingly good point.”

“And you say that far less than you used to,” Impa smiled. She rose, kissed the side of Zelda’s head and plucked a mince pie from the plate.

“I have an errand to run,” she said. “I will return shortly.”

Zelda picked up her stack of letters. “Send these to post, please, as urgent mail. I want the lords to know I appreciate their assistance, and I invite them to this farce to show my appreciation.”

“As you command.”

XXXXXXX

Zelda spent the next few hours reluctantly drafting posters and flyers for the upcoming celebration. All the while, she gritted her teeth. If the stranger thought that she was going to go down without a fight, she was wrong. She would plan appropriately, but there was no way that this was going to go ahead. For now, all the people knew, it was a false promise being bandied about by a stranger with no knowledge of their customs. She herself had made no public promise. She could easily feign ignorance, and perhaps even have the stranger arrested for her lies.

The nobility would be furious that she swindled them of their hard earned money. The people would be angry at the promise of free food, and turn their ire on the stranger. It would not be difficult, then, to rid Hyrule of this pestilence.

She smiled. Impa had been right. She could turn this to her advantage. And even if she must host this ridiculous affair, which she wouldn’t, she would find a way to win the people’s favour. She would not waste the food, no, it would be sold at a discount to those most in need of it, the excess sold to the taverns and inns, or sent as gifts to those most in her favour. She would be seen as gracious and generous, giving to the people in this hard time when the stranger saw fit to get their hopes up before dashing them. She, their princess, would save them.

She giggled to herself. All would be well.

She took her drafts of posters and flyers and looked them over, a smile spreading over her face. It would be easy enough to claim she gave them to her scholars, but they somehow didn’t make it to town. The stranger could be blamed for that, as well. She carefully tucked them away in a drawer.

As she stretched the ache from her neck, Impa returned, melting snow on her shoulders.

“Zelda,” she swept over. “Come with me. There is something happening in the town square that I think you will want to see.”

“By the Three,” Zelda cursed. “What is it now?”

Though her collar was up, Zelda could see Impa’s smile in her eyes.

“You’ll see.”


	9. Link

Link, Thoria, Telma and Shad huddled in an alley, peering out at the square. People milled around, their heads down, shopping bags and children swinging from their hands. The lampposts were twined with thick ropes of holly and pine, decorated with red ribbons. Many of the shops and houses had wreaths on their doors, and one of the vendors had started selling mince pies and candy canes. The latter were particularly popular with the children.

Thoria grinned. “It’s almost time. I dropped a suggestive message to a few people I know are in Impa’s pocket that something’s happening. She should have gone to get Zelda.” She bent and dug in the bag at her feet. “Now. Put these on.”

She handed Link and the others bright red, long hats with white fur around the rim and in a fluffy pompom at the end. Link stared.

“What the hell is-“

“Shh. Put it on.” Thoria jammed her own onto her head and giggled. “And these.” She pulled out red cloaks trimmed with the same white fur.

“Now I know why you’re wearing a red dress,” Link said. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Freezing,” she said, cheerfully. Telma pulled on her hat and cloak and preened.

“How do I look?”

“Stunning,” Thoria said, and helped Shad tie his cloak. “We all look great.”

Link rolled his eyes and swapped his hat, enjoying the warmth of the white fur. He glanced up the alley and spotted the group of urchins approaching. Thoria smiled at them and handed them all miniature hats of their own, along with red mittens and scarves.

“Do we all remember the songs?” she said. She was still grinning like a child, but there was a soft note of anxiety in her voice. Link brushed her hand with his own.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

She nodded, and drew herself up.

“Well, then. No time like the present.”

And she ducked out of the alley, winding through the crowd to the fountain. Link, Telma and Shad followed, the scholar keeping his head tucked into his shoulders. Before they even reached the fountain, Link felt the stares of the people around them being drawn to them.

For a moment, they stood together as the attention of the crowd came their way. Link felt the people seek him out, recognising him, wondering why he was there, dressed in a daft hat and cloak with three others. He glanced at Thoria.

She gave him a quick smile, and took a breath.

“ _Once in royal David’s city, stood a lowly cattle shed. Where a mother laid her baby in a manger for his bed.”_

Link gaped. He had heard Thoria sing before, and whilst she had a good grasp of pitch and timbre, this was something else entirely. Her voice had taken on an operatic quality, cutting clear as glass through the crowd. Like a wave, a spell seemed to fall on those nearest, and the people stopped to listen. So enraptured was he, that he almost missed his cue to come in with Shad and Telma.

The urchins began to appear in the crowd, adding their own little voices spread through the throng, making their way to the front as more people gathered. Link kept his hands behind his back, his fists clenched tightly, desperate for the attention to wane, for the crowd to disperse, yet terrified that it would.

Once the song was finished, there was a breath of silence. Then, someone started clapping. Another joined in, and soon, the people of Castle Town were cheering. Before it died down, Thoria launched into Silent Night. As they sang, Link noticed couples standing closer together, older men and women smiling as their voices soared above the square.

They went through a couple more of the softer carols before Thoria grinned, glancing at Link as the crowd applauded again.

“Zelda’s coming,” she said.

Link peered over the crowd and saw the unmistakeable golden carriage rolling to a stop behind the throng. The door opened, and the princess climbed out. Thoria’s smile widened.

“Time to kick it up a notch,” she said. “Merrily on High?”

“If you insist,” Link said, unable to stop his smile as they began the song, Telma’s surprisingly sweet voice soaring high, mixing with Shad’s rich, deep tone. And at last, he began to relax. The music came to him so easily, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to stand in front of a crowd and sing with the woman he loved and his friends. It was something he never would have considered before, preferring to keep himself to himself and out of the public eye, away from the stares and the adoration.

But then, Thoria always seemed to have a way of pushing him to step out of his comfort zone, giving him the confidence to do what he never would.

And then, to his complete surprise, music joined their voices. A band had materialised out of the crowd, and were playing along with them. As the song ended, Link nudged Thoria.

“Is this you as well?”

“Who else would it be, Santa?” she laughed. “ _Hark the herald angels sing…_ ”

And on they went. Though the air was frigid, the light wind bitter, Link barely felt the cold. Telma towered above them, her voice boisterous and then soft, loud and then quiet when it was needed, and Shad even managed to half-reveal himself from behind them all as he became more comfortable. And with each song, the crowd grew, and the smiles widened, and it seemed that the little square in the middle of Hyrule became just a little bit brighter.

The urchins sang as well as they could, their sweet little voices adding an angelic quality to the music, and when they sang Angels We Have Heard on High, the one song that Thoria had begged Link to sing solo for the first verse, he was astounded and more than a little proud to see a few tears being shed.

The music swelled, louder and louder as they sang, and Link lost himself in the music. It was the only thing there in the square. Him, the music, his friends and the woman he loved.


	10. Zelda

Zelda stood at the back of the crowd, staring as Link sang a strange song that she did not know with the stranger and his old allies. She pursed her lips and folded her arms. Navi had told the truth. He had an astonishing voice. Such a shame he had never sung for her, no matter how often she asked. He always had an excuse. He was tired, his throat was sore, he was too shy, and felt he was not good enough. She should have insisted, for here he was now, devoid of all inhibition, singing in front of half the realm, dressed in an absurd outfit, all because of that stranger.

Clearly, her magic ran deep.

At the end of the song, the crowd cheered. Link and the others sang a few more, some sombre and soft, some boisterous and jolly. Zelda rolled her eyes and glanced at Impa, only to find her nodding her head to the music, a smile in her eyes. Impa caught her looking and went instantly still, fixing a glare into the crowd.

And then, at last, it was over. Zelda let out a soft breath. The music _had_ been enjoyable, but that was only because of Link’s singing, and the skilled band that was now dispersing through the crowd, vanishing among the people.

The stranger stepped forward, her cheeks rosy and her hat askew. Telma waved to the crowd, clapping Link on the back and linking her arm with Shad’s. All were smiling.

“Thank you, thank you,” Thoria said, grinning at the crowd. “I hope you all enjoyed this small taste of what Christmas means to me, the joy it can bring people, and how it brings people together. And I hope you enjoyed the _astounding_ performance by Hyrule’s own Hero of Twilight and our friends!”

The crowd roared.

“Thank you again,” Thoria said, with a smile. “But I hope this showed everyone just how meaningful Christmas can be. Do you want more of it?”

The crowd screamed a definitive affirmative.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Thoria said, and her emerald eyes found Zelda’s at the back of the crowd. Her smile showed teeth. “It’s all down to our wonderful princess, now,” she said. “The decision rests with her. Your Highness, I hope we have convinced you to allow us to bring Christmas to Hyrule, to host the feast at the castle on the solstice like you promised?”

Zelda gaped at the stranger. The impudence! The audacity! The unmitigated gall! But the voices of the crowd dragged her attention down.

“Please, your Highness!”

“Princess, please! It was so wonderful!”

“Please, Princess Zelda, we want Santa to like us!”

“Please, this made me so happy!”

Zelda forced her mouth into a smile, her fists bunched under her robe. She sought out the stranger again, standing on the platform, one hand outstretched as though to take her own across the throng, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Zelda raised her hands, and the crowd fell silent.

“This was a most enjoyable performance,” she said, and the crowd cheered. “I have certainly experienced something I did not expect to. However, I…” she hesitated, and Thoria’s grin widened. Zelda sighed. “I… must do some preparations of my own if we are to bring Christmas to Hyrule. A notification will be sent to you all within the day.”

The crowd exploded in rapturous cheers as Zelda turned and headed for her carriage in a daze. She couldn’t get the stranger’s smirk out of her mind, the twist of her mouth that showed that she was trapped. Accept this pagan tradition that would waste food and resources, starving her people and draining the treasury, or disappoint her people, turning them against her? It was clear the fools already loved this stranger and the heathen customs she brought to Hyrule. But not only that, she had somehow convinced her Hero to join in with the effort!

Impa slid in beside her and the carriage began to move, the laughter and chatter of the people of Hyrule, _her_ people, still sounding. Impa unhooked her collar and let it swing free, revealing her face. A smile was on her lips, and she parted the curtain once more and gazed out at the town as it rolled by.

“Do not tell me you enjoyed that,” Zelda grumbled.

“Did you not?” Impa sounded surprised. “Even if it is an unfamiliar tradition, you cannot deny it was enjoyable.”

“I enjoyed Link’s singing,” Zelda admitted, grudgingly. “And Lady Thoria can certainly put together a performance. What I did not appreciate was her attempt to corner me into agreeing with this farcical tradition!”

Impa nodded. “I will admit that was underhand. But it seems as though it was unnecessary. The people love the idea of Christmas.”

“The people love the idea of full bellies and warm beds,” Zelda sniffed. “It takes little to please them.” She yanked the blanket over her shoulders and folded her arms. “This will not happen, Impa. I cannot have the stranger undermine me.”

Impa let loose a soft, almost mournful sigh. “As you will, your Highness. But I urge you to reconsider. The solstice is in two days.”

Zelda remained silent, glaring at the carriage interior. It did not matter what the people thought. She was their princess, and knew what was right for the kingdom of Hyrule. What mattered was surviving through the winter. Not this excessive waste of resources and energy.

“You want this to happen, do you not?” she said.

Impa held her gaze a long moment.

“I believe it will do the people good,” she said. “There is no harm in trying. If it is a success, as I have said, we can monopolise on it. If it is a failure, then you need never worry about it again.”

She sat back. “I know this is stressful for you,” she said. “So I will handle the necessary preparations. I want you to rest yourself, sweet one.”

“How can I?” Zelda sighed. She felt tears prick her eyes and she blinked them furiously away. “This stranger is systematically trying to destroy everything I have worked hard to maintain. Everything Hyrule is, everything I am, everything Link is…” she shook her head. “I cannot see how this will not end in travesty.”

“Leave it to me,” Impa said. “I shall speak with lady Thoria and Ser Link, and ensure that this is a success. You’ll see.”

Upon returning to her chambers, she ambled about in a listless daze, uncertain of where to turn, and what to do, as Impa, her own aide, her own right hand, ran errands on behalf of the stranger. Was she to take Impa from her too? She sat by the window a time, watching snowflakes spiral past the glass. It was only when she caught herself humming ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ that she stood and stormed to her study, where she busied herself with research.

Later, as the sun was setting, Impa returned to Zelda’s chambers.

“What news?” the princess asked.

“Preparations are underway,” Impa said, brushing snow off her cloak. “There is little else to do. Ser Link and lady Thoria will be distributing the presents Telma has gathered to the unfortunates of Hyrule tomorrow night, as well as a number of token gifts to many other families. I believe they plan to give a gift to each household in Castle Town, to emulate what Father Christmas does.”

Zelda shook her head. “How ridiculous. Do they plan to do that every year? Or will my people be disappointed when this only happens once, after lady Thoria grows tired of this game?”

“I don’t have all the answers, sweet one,” Impa said. “Now. The night is cold. I shall draw you a bath, and fetch you something to eat. Then, you must rest, and enjoy the holiday season.”

Zelda turned away and hugged herself. There was nothing she could do. Christmas was coming, and she could not stop it. Link and the stranger would be playing the part of a heathen saint to distribute presents through the town, pretending as though a magic man had done it. It was such a foolish notion it would be laughable, were it not really happening.

And with each action, her people would slide further from her, further from Hylia, the Three Divines, and their holy teachings. The Goddesses may smite them for such heresy. Was this to be the darkness the stranger was foretold to bring? She had to stop it. But how? Impa would be useless. She was convinced that this Christmas would be a good thing, something to be celebrated, and repeated!

The sound of running water reached her ears. She rose, and made her slow way into her bedchamber. She unlaced her dress and laid it on the back of her chair, standing in her undergown. She wandered into her enormous wardrobe, the racks and shelves full of beautiful dresses and elegant gowns. But something else caught her eye.

She approached the rack and ran her fingers over her old training outfit. When she was younger, she had trained in the art of archery and hand-to-hand combat. It had never interested her, but Impa’s lessons in the Sheikah art of invisible movement had enthralled her. She had never mastered it, much less practiced it in recent years, but…

She fingered the dark material.

Link and the stranger would be delivering gifts the following night. If Impa wouldn’t help her, then she would just have to stop them herself.


	11. Link

It was the night before solstice, and all through the town, not a soul was stirring, except for two furtive, cloaked figures hurrying through the snow, leading a horse.

Epona’s hooves had been wrapped in cloth to muffle them, and she pulled a large cart behind her, the wheels, bolts and joists oiled into silence. Link kept his hood pulled tight about his head as he and Thoria made their way to Telma’s bar. They left Epona at the top of the steps and rushed through, slipping into the warm, dim taproom.

Telma grinned from behind the bar and waved, as Shad looked up from his book, yawned, and returned his head to its parchment pillow.

“How was the trip?” Telma asked, her voice soft, her eyes alight with excitement. “Did anyone see you?”

“No,” Link said. “I’ve never seen the town so quiet.”

“Christmas magic,” Thoria said, a phrase she had used almost incessantly over the last few days to explain almost everything wonderous that had happened. The feast was prepared and ready to be cooked, decorations had arrived and were due to be hung the next morning, ahead of the people’s arrival, and somehow, some way, Thoria had managed to convince fifty servants to create miniature explosives to be pulled apart at the dinner table. Despite his interest in Christmas traditions, he was a little apprehensive about this last one.

Telma pointed them to the end of the bar, where a gigantic pile of gifts sat, wrapped with varying degrees of skill.

“I’ve colour-coded the ribbons,” Telma said, lifting a present. “Green is for the most needy of us, they’ve got essentials in them like dried food and blankets. Red is for people who can cope, but need a little extra help this year. Silver is just token stuff, and gold is for the kiddies.”

“That’s amazing, Telma,” Link said, taking a parcel in his hands. “I just hope we can get this all done before the dawn.”

“We’ll do it,” Thoria said. “But only if we hurry.”

They formed a line, waking Shad up to help them. Telma stood by the pile and threw parcels to Link, standing by the door. She had an incredible arm, and didn’t miss once. Link, in turn, threw his parcel up the steps to Thoria, who passed it to Shad, who stacked the presents into four neat piles, nestled snugly in the cart. Time seemed to fly by as the pile of presents shrunk painfully slowly.

At last, they were done. Telma and Shad disappeared into the back room and Link stepped back as Thoria bounced into the bar with a small sack in her hands. Link eyed it.

“Uh oh,” he said. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something I’m not going to like in there?”

“Because you know me so well,” Thoria said, and reached inside, producing an outfit with a flourish.

It was almost entirely red, with black gloves, boots, and white fur trimming everything. Link groaned.

“Why?” he said.

“Oh, go on,” Thoria winked, holding up the padded tunic. “It’s for the people.”

“I never could refuse you,” Link said, taking it. “But does it have to be so… chunky?”

“Father Christmas is a jolly old fat man,” Thoria said, with a wink. “I happen to think you’d look very sexy in this.”

“You’d still think I’m sexy if I was old and out of shape?” Link laughed and pulled his tunic off, slouching and trying to force his abs into a pot belly. He failed. Thoria’s lip quirked in her half smile.

“Of course,” she said. “But if you manage to stay like that, then I’m not complaining.”

“Lucky for you, I’m attracted to your sense of humour,” Link said, and ducked as Thoria threw a mess of fluffed wool at him with a laugh. “What’s this?”

“A beard,” Thoria said, pointing out where it would attach to his face. “Santa has a big white beard.”

“I already grew this out,” Link said, rubbing his chin, where short bristles scratched his fingers. “I have to wear this too?”

Thoria closed the distance between them and ran her fingers through his beard. Link couldn’t help the low growl that rumbled through his chest.

“I love it,” she said. “But you have to look the part, _mo ghaol_. For me?”

Link chuckled, closing his eyes as she stroked his face. “For you.”

XXXXXXX

Dressed in his padded, red tunic, red hat and cloak, Link clambered into the cart and picked up Epona’s reins. Thoria, dressed in her own red tunic and hat, climbed up beside him. He flicked the reins, and they trundled off down the street. They pulled up halfway along, and Link hopped down, grabbing a few parcels.

“I can’t knock on the door,” Link said, eyeing the dark windows. “We want this to be a surprise, right?”

“Well,” Thoria checked the ribbons and swapped a couple of the parcels. “Traditionally, Father Christmas is meant to go down the chimney.”

Link stared at her. She held a serious expression for all of three seconds before dissolving into giggles.

“I don’t expect you to do that. Just pop them through the window there, that latch looks easy enough to work open.”

They hurried down the street together, each taking a side. Link jimmied windows open, crept in through unlocked back doors, and even shimmied up a drainpipe to push parcels through an open bedroom window. The street suitably gifted, Link returned to the cart and waited as Thoria slipped out of an alley and hurried to him, hopping into the cart beside him as Epona moved on.

An hour passed, and they crept through the streets, falling into a rhythm as they snuck various gifts into the unsuspecting people’s homes. Link couldn’t help but smile as he imagined families waking up on the morning on the Solstice to find wrapped presents somehow in their homes, gifted by kind strangers.

As they made their way through the town, Thoria squeezed his hand.

“I think we’ll make it,” she said. “We’ve a good few hours yet. We should finish with enough time to get back to the castle before dawn.”

“I hope so,” Link yawned widely. “I’d forgotten what it was like to get a regular night’s sleep. I can’t remember the last time I was up this late.”

Thoria smiled. “We’ll just have to find a way to make sure this happens every year. Normally it’s parents who keep the myth of Father Christmas alive for their children, but they know he’s not real. He’s just a legend.”

“Legends are real,” Link said, and took her hand. “Much as I hate to say it, look at me. Who’s to say he’s not really real?”

Thoria smiled. “Good point. But my world had significantly less magic. We had to make do.”

Link rested his hand on hers as Epona trotted down the dark street, where the only sounds were her muffled hooves and their soft breath, misting in the cold air. But a flicker caught his eye. He pulled away from Thoria and glanced up the street.

“What is it?” Thoria peered around as well.

Link shook his head. “Nothing. I thought I saw something.”

They stopped at the end of another street, and hopped off the cart. Link grabbed an armful of gifts and hurried to the closest house. He grumbled as he circled it, finding no openings. He fiddled with a window and pushed the presents through, resting them on the counter below. He made his way back to the cart and froze.

A figure was standing in the darkness of an alley, lit only by the flames held in their hand. They drew their arm back, and sent a fireball arcing towards the cart of wrapped presents.

“No!” Link cried, and dove forward as the fire splashed across the thin paper, taking to it and spreading greedily. Epona brayed in terror and reared, trying to bolt, but the brakes on the cartwheels held her firm. Link whipped off his cloak and tried to smother the fire, but it had splashed too wide. He swore and batted at it with his gloved hands, grabbing parcels and flinging them into the snow.

Thoria appeared, swearing, and skidded up beside him, snatching handfuls of snow and flinging it into the cart. Together, they smothered the flames. Panting, Link removed his burnt cloak and inspected the damage. Several presents were singed, but some were burnt beyond repair, the gifts within poking through the charred paper, blackened and ruined.

Thoria let loose a stream of vicious curses that seemed to melt the snow at her feet as Link rushed to calm Epona.

“Who did this?” she snarled. “I’ll have their bloody head!”

“I didn’t see their face,” Link said. “But there was a figure in that alley,” he pointed. “I think they were using magic.”

Thoria stiffened.

“Bastards,” she growled. “We’ll salvage what we can. This won’t stop us. _Le mo chumhachd_ , this will not stop us.”

“Right,” Link said. He gathered the fallen gifts and stowed them back on the cart, removing those that were too badly burned to gift. “What would we say to explain the damage?”

Thoria gave a humourless laugh. “Santa is meant to go down chimneys,” she said. “Perhaps someone left their fire on.”

“Poor Santa,” Link said, forcing a smile. But it was with trepidation that he climbed back into the cart and set off again, glancing over his shoulder.

They reached the next street and Thoria climbed down. Link reached for her.

“Maybe one of us should stay here,” he said. “In case whoever that was comes back.”

Thoria glared about the dark street. “It would take too long. We’re late as it is.” She growled and ran her hands through her hair. “You take this end of the street, I’ll take the far end. If you see anyone, howl like a wolf. You know how to?”

“You could say that,” Link said. If only Thoria knew just how easily a howl could come to him.

“I’ll do the same,” she said, and grabbed an armful of gifts. “Good luck.”

Link hurried to deliver the gifts, reluctant to let the cart out of his sight. Epona was skittish, her eyes rolling, stamping nervously and champing at her bit. The few minutes he spent out of sight of the cart had him cursing and rushing, making too much noise, but when he returned, all seemed to be well.

He finished the rest of his half of the street quickly, hovering by the cart as he watched Thoria dart between houses, before running back to him,

“Trouble?” she asked.

“Not that I could see.”

“Good.”

They rode down a few more streets. Link glanced at the sky. If they kept to their pace, they would succeed after all. He dared to breathe. They had half the town yet to go.

They pulled up and hopped down, grabbing armfuls of presents and running to the houses, forcing windows and picking locks to get the gifts inside. They finished another street, and Thoria hopped up in front next to Link.

“We’ll do this,” she said, her eyes fierce. “So help me, this will work, or-“

She yelped as the cart bucked and listed to the side. Link swore and pulled Epona to a halt as the cart tilted. He leapt down and ran to the back, swearing again as he saw the back wheel splintered and useless.

Thoria swore again, her hands to the side of her head. Teeth bared, she snarled a series of unfamiliar words into the air as she paced up and down.

“Impossible,” she growled, glaring at the damage. “What the hell happened? Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” Link said. “It’s completely destroyed. The cart won’t move like this.”

At his words, Thoria stopped her pacing and sat down in the snow. She crossed her legs and stared at the shattered wheel.

“It won’t move,” she repeated. “It’s ruined.” She hung her head. “We won’t make it in time. Christmas is fucking ruined.”

Link dropped to his knees beside her.

“It’s not,” he said. “Look at how much we got done! And we’ve still a few hours. If we run, we can still manage to deliver some.”

“But not enough,” she said. She raised her head, and her eyes glittered like diamonds. “Everyone needs a gift. Not just some. Not just half the town. That’s not fair. That’s not Christmas.”

Link swallowed past the lump in his throat. If nothing else, seeing Thoria so distressed tore at his heart. He glared at the cart.

“We’ll make this work,” he said, and rose. “Get up in front.”

Thoria stared up at him, despondently. “Why? What’s the point?”

“Thoria, get in the cart,” he said, and grabbed hold of the damaged corner. “I’ll carry it. You guide Epona.”

Thoria rose, peering at him. “It’s too heavy,” she said. “You can’t.”

Link rolled his eyes. “Thoria, I've beaten Gorons in wrestling. I've moved boulders with my bare hands. I defeated Ganondorf in a one-on-one duel.” He lifted the end of the cart. “I think I can manage this.”

Thoria blinked away her tears and set her face into a determined scowl. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

She leapt into the cart and flicked the reins. Epona trotted onwards, and Link kept pace, holding the smashed wheel off the ground, his teeth gritted, his gaze fixed ahead.

XXXXXXX

Dawn was a slight smudge on the horizon as Thoria pushed the last gift through a window and returned to the cart. She did not climb back into it, but wordlessly placed a hand under the back of it, next to Link. She met his eyes, and smiled a tired smile. He returned it.

“Epona, stables,” he said, and she began to move, her walk sluggish and swaying. His hands seemed to be fixed to the cart, so long had they been tucked under the end, raising it from the ground, moving only to grab presents and deliver them.

He had seen the shadowy figure only twice more. Once he had seen them approaching from a distance, but they had fled when he ran back to the cart. The second time, he had been delayed climbing down a trellis by a cat who, clearly offended by his efforts to gain entry, had sabotaged him and clawed at his head until he threw the gifts through an open window and fell in a rosebush. He had caught the figure with their hands deep in the pile of presents and charged them.

They fled and he gave chase, giving up only when he was sure they had run far enough to not trouble them for a while. And it seemed to have worked, for the rest of their journey was uneventful, if fraught with stress. Thoria kept up a steady stream of curses, glancing at they sky and urging them to go faster and faster until Link was forced to grab her by the shoulders and hold her until she calmed down.

And now, they made their way back to the castle. They stabled Epona, who knelt in her stall and went straight to sleep. Together, Link and Thoria made their way back to his rooms and collapsed on his bed, too tired to undress. With only an hour before true dawn, there was little to do but stare up in a stupor as night brightened into day.


	12. Link

When dawn finally arrived full and true, Link stirred. He had not slept, merely dozed as the sky brightened, flat on his back and staring at the canopy of his bed, Thoria nestled in the crook of his arm. She shifted, sliding an arm across his chest.

“I don’t want to get up,” she mumbled. “Last night took a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“But we did it,” he replied. “We delivered gifts to everyone.” He smiled. “Just think of it. Everyone in town is going to wake up to a surprise. I even made sure those kids who helped us had something.”

Thoria squeezed him. “You picked something especially for them?”

“Well, yeah,” he rolled onto his side and pulled her to his chest. “They helped us. And their world needs a little brightening.”

Thoria brushed a kiss along his jaw. “They’re lucky. Hyrule’s lucky to have someone like you.”

“Do you think we could sleep for another hour?” he mumbled into her hair. “There’s ages until the feast. Surely they don’t need us to help that much.”

“You can sleep,” she murmured. “I should check on things. I am a bit of an authority on this, you know.”

Link pulled her closer. “If you go, I go too. Its not fair if you have to do it all alone.”

“I haven’t, though,” she said, and raised her head to kiss him properly. “Get another hour, _mo ghaol._ I’ll see you later.”

And she wriggled out from his embrace, leaving his arms empty. Link sighed as he watched her go, wanting to go with her, but the pull of sleep was too strong. It would only be an hour, passing in the blink of an eye, and then he would see her again…

Link woke to a sun high in the sky, streaming in through his window. He leapt up with a curse. He had slept the morning away. He washed quickly and changed back into his tunic and hat, stumbling out into the corridor, searching for Thoria.

He hurried through the castle, heading for the great hall. That must be where she would be, for that was where they would be hosting the feast. The whole town would be there, as well as all the nobility, as well as any who could make it from the surrounding areas at such short notice. Link swore softly under his breath. If only they had had more time to plan, to get the word out, then the whole of Hyrule could be with them today.

He turned a corner and saw Impa striding in his direction. He stopped and hesitated. He and the Sheikah had never been on the best of terms. But, to his complete surprise, Impa was smiling. Actually smiling. With teeth. She saw him.

“Ser Link,” she greeted him. “I hope you are well?”

“Uh,” Link blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, you?”

Impa nodded. “Indeed. Where is the lady Thoria?”

“I’m looking for her,” Link explained. “I was up late delivering presents and overslept.”

Impa’s smile faded to be replaced with the cool, stony look he was so used to.

“I suggest you find her, Ser,” she said. “You are charged with watching her, after all.”

“Yeah,” Link said, edging around the Sheikah. “I’m on it.”

He bounded down the last flight of stairs, coming at last to the doors of the great hall. He stretched out a hand for the handle when it opened, and Thoria slipped into the hall.

“Ah, there you are!” she said, grinning, looking alarmingly bright-eyed for someone functioning on an hour’s sleep. “Come on, I need your help.”

“I’m sorry,” Link said. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long…”

“I left you deliberately,” Thoria said, taking his elbow and steering him towards the kitchens. “You needed the sleep.”

“So did you,” he argued.

“Your sleep debt’s bigger than mine, I’d bet,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder and pulled him towards the tapestry that hid their secret alcove, pulling him inside and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“There’s nothing more you can do,” she said, and he sank against her. “Leave the rest of this to me. It’s all under control, and I want it to be a surprise for you.”

“Now I want to help more than ever,” he said, stroking her hair. “What am I meant to do, if I’m not helping you?”

“You could find an outfit for the feast,” she replied. “Something smart, but not ostentatious.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “As for what you can do? Maybe go to town, make sure people know where to go, what time to come, and encourage them to make it here.”

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Link said, holding her tightly. In their secret place, he pressed another kiss to her lips. “I’ll be back. Where shall I meet you?”

“Your rooms, half an hour before it starts,” she said, and gave him a gentle push. “Go on, now.”

XXXXXXX

The hours crawled by as Link dutifully encouraged the people of Castle Town to wear their very best clothes and make their way to the castle as the time neared. As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, he hurried back, making it to his rooms in time to meet Thoria. She was standing in the middle of his room, devoid of all clothing, holding up a cloth dress bag.

“Hi,” she said, not looking over as he stopped in the doorway and stared. “I’m not quite ready. I’m still figuring out what to wear.”

“What you have on looks fine to me,” Link said, shaking himself out of his stupor and crossing the room. He took her in his arms and kissed her, softly.

“I don’t think the rest of Hyrule would agree,” she said, with a smirk. “Excuse me.” And she dipped into the bathroom to change.

Link shook his head and fumbled around in his wardrobe, trying to get the picture of her perfect form out of his mind, with limited success. He eventually decided on a navy blue suit, a simple and elegant thing that had never really been his preferred style, but suited him nonetheless. Only minutes later, Thoria emerged, dressed in an elegant gown the colour of a winter sunset, that glittered like frost in the dawn. She smiled as Link stared, at a loss for words.

“Shall we?” she said, offering her hand. Link took it, and held on to it tightly for as long as he dared, all the way to the last staircase, where he was forced to drop it and offer his arm instead, nothing more than the escort of a strange and beautiful woman in their kingdom.

There was a large crowd of people in the entrance hall, which had been decorated with colourful banners of red and gold and draped with wreaths of holly and ivy. Everyone in the entrance hall was gazing about them with wide eyed wonder, and the children clasping the hands of their parents were excitedly pointing at the large trees to either side of the doors to the great hall. A pair of festively dressed footmen were showing people inside. Link craned his neck to see past the doors, but Thoria pulled him down the last few steps, towards the back of the queue.

As they passed, heads turned, and murmurs of appreciation reached them as the commoners took in Thoria’s dress and Link’s suit. He felt the old pricking discomfort rise up under their gaze, the stares of people who mistook him for something more than he was. Quietly, they slipped to the back, out of sight, and though a few people still craned around, trying to catch a glimpse of him, the pull of what awaited them in the hall was too much, and he was soon thankfully ignored.

“Here,” Thoria plucked a sprig of holly from a wreath, complete with red berries, and attached it to the lapels of his suit. Link grinned.

“Thanks. I’ll have to make sure I don’t hug anyone, though.”

“Don’t be so prickly,” Thoria said, and smirked as he chuckled.

Slowly, the queue moved forward, and more people came in to join behind them. The closer they got, the faster Link’s heart began to beat, excitement growing from deep inside his chest with each step they took. Thoria seemed to be feeling it too, for her smile widened the closer they got, and she squeezed his arm harder as the doors came into view at last.

“Ser Link, lady Thoria,” the footmen greeted them. “Welcome to Hyrule’s first official Christmas Solstice celebration.”

The doors opened, and they stepped into another world.

Link’s mouth opened as he took in the scene. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The walls were covered in enormous sheets of cloth that were deep blue at the base, fading to icy blue and then to white as they soared up to the vaulted ceiling, fifteen metres off the ground. The chandelier had been painted white, the glass of the lamps a gentle sky blue. The torch brackets had been coloured similarly, casting an icy glow about the hall that somehow still seemed warm. A great fire roared in the hearth that had been decorated with more holly and ivy, and the great tables were draped in white trimmed with silver.

Silver fairies bobbed through the air, occasionally casting sprays of blue and white sparkles that shimmered as they fell, fading before they hit the ground. People were spread through the hall, staring about in the same wonder at their surroundings, excitedly pointing at the fairies, the tables, and each other, laughing and clapping their hands in delight.

And at the end of the hall, behind Zelda’s table was a gigantic fir tree, so tall it almost reached the ceiling, decorated with silver streamers and blue ornaments, scattered pink lights and tiny, twinkling stars of white.

“Well?” Thoria squeezed his arm again. “Do you like it?”

“It’s… incredible,” Link said, unable to tear his eyes away from everything that surrounded them. Thoria guided him away from the door and took two goblets of wine from a passing servant.

“To Christmas,” she said, with a grin.

Link returned her smile. “To you,” he said.

Thoria’s eyes softened. “To _us_ ,” she whispered.

The next half an hour was spent mingling with the other guests, all of whom were bright eyed and rosy cheeked, holding their goblets gingerly, as though afraid such splendour would vanish if they gripped too tightly. They showered Thoria with praise and gratitude for bringing Christmas to Hyrule, and convincing the princess to allow this once in a lifetime chance to spend an evening free of worry.

And then, at last, Princess Zelda herself arrived. She was dressed in an elegant gown of forest green, covered with a darker lace patterned in the shape of ivy leaves. Her hair was intricately styled at the back of her head, woven through a wreath of birchwood that had been treated to look as though it were covered in frost. A birchwood branch was traditionally broken on the Solstice to symbolise the breaking of the middle of winter, to signify that though times were hard, there was hope yet to come.

Zelda was accompanied by a squadron of four of her Royal Guard, none of whom had dressed for the occasion. They cast sharp looks at the crowd, moving their hands to their swords if the commons strayed too close.

“Ser Link,” Zelda greeted him with a warm smile. “Lady Thoria. I am most pleased that you could join us.”

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Thoria said. “I’m impressed, your Highness. You really pulled out all the stops getting all the necessaries together for us to decorate. Thank you.”

Zelda smiled demurely. “But of course. I wish to see my people happy, and this… certainly seems to have achieved that.” She turned back to Link. “Link, as always, your presence makes any grand event all the more enjoyable. I am sure you will join me at my table for dinner?”

“We’d be happy to,” Link said. Zelda’s smile remained, but her eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Would the lady Thoria not be more happy with the people she cares for so?” she asked, directing the question at Thoria. She shrugged in return.

“Either suits me, your Highness,” she said. “But unless something’s changed that I don’t know about, Ser Link is still charged with guarding me. Am I mistaken, your Highness?”

Zelda dipped her head in a regal nod. “No, you are correct. I merely thought it would be nice for you, as this… Christmas is supposed to be a time when all people come together. Is that right?”

“It is,” Thoria said, her own smile gentle. “So how about it, your Highness? Come and sit with us at one of the low tables. You might enjoy it.”

Zelda gave a dainty laugh. “Much as I am sure that would be enjoyable, lady Thoria, I am the princess, and as such, I have my security to bear in mind. I shall remain in my rightful place.”

Link nodded. “Of course. It makes sense, and as your Chosen Knight, I should be there with you.”

Zelda beamed at him, but Link tipped his head towards Thoria.

“But, unless King Rhoam has decreed otherwise, I need to stay with Thoria.” He gave the princess an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you understand, your Highness. I would gladly sit with you, if there is a place for Thoria as well.”

Zelda’s smile turned frigid. She took a slight breath and relaxed.

“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of such an experience as enjoying these festivities with the people who they are for,” she said. Her smile widened. “Ser Link, I am certain they would greatly appreciate your presence, most of all. You are the Hero of Twilight, after all.”

And with a small wave, she set off, winding through the guests, smiling and nodding at them as she passed, seeking the company of the nobility, who were easily spotted amongst the commoners.

“Ah,” Link said, watching her go. “Maybe it’d be best if I did keep out of the way a bit.” He eyed the crowd, who had seemingly become used to the splendour around them, and were slowly but surely inching closer to him.

“If you want to sit up there, you go right ahead,” Thoria said, with a smile. “I know it’s not easy for you, being in the spotlight all the time.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Link murmured. Then, he looked up, and brightened. “Besides. Good company is what you make of it.” He glanced over the crowd, searching for someone, anyone that he knew. Then something caught his eye, and he stared. Thoria followed his gaze.

“Is that _Impa?_ ” she said, raising a hand to her mouth, unable to hide the smile that was spreading there. “My lord. Colour me impressed.”

The Sheikah was not in her traditional leather armour and half cape with the high collar. She had instead donned a bright red tunic and trousers with a gold vest, with a long cloak reminiscent of Santa's around her shoulders. She strode through the hall, wearing the widest smile Link had ever seen.

“That’s one for the storybooks,” Thoria said, as Impa made her way to Zelda, whose astonishment was plain to see, despite her royal decorum.

Link laughed, then raised his arm and waved, calling out to Telma and Shad, who had appeared amongst the throng.

Telma bounded over, dragging Shad by the hand, her bosom leaping above her corset, the skirts of her dress flying about her ankles. She gathered them both into a bone-crushing hug, kissing them both on the cheek.

“My word, honey!” she laughed, clapping her hands as she released them. “This is incredible! I never imagined I’d be back at the castle so soon, and just look at this place!” she waved an arm. “It’s even better than last time!” She prodded Thoria’s nose. “You did all this, didn’t you, honey?”

“Well, it was my idea,” she admitted. “The servants did most of the actual decorating. I helped where I could, but I can’t be trusted at the top of a ladder.” She mimed wobbling and falling.

“Yes, I say, it is rather splendid,” Shad said. “I am most curious about these Christmas traditions, dear Thoria. I wonder if we might get together over a spot of tea to discuss what you remember of your homeland in depth?”

“Love to,” Thoria said. “But only if you teach me about Sky writing.”

They laughed and chatted together for a time, breaking off only for Link to speak with the townsfolk who occasionally appeared, asking to shake his hand, or for him to sign scraps of parchment. His friends fielded the townsfolk as best they could, but it was with no small amount of relief that Zelda rose at last and tapped her crystal goblet with a fork.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome, and thank you for coming. I would ask you all to now take your seats, for dinner is soon to be served.”

There was a great cheer, and the guests moved towards the tables lined around the edges of the hall. Link found himself next to Thoria, their backs to the wall, with Telma and Shad opposite them. Within moments of everybody finding their places, the nobility conspicuously relegated to tables close to Zelda and away from the commoners, a stream of servants entered the hall, carrying four plates apiece.

Link stared down at the aperitif as it was laid before him, his mouth watering. It was a simple, small wheel of goats cheese atop a tiny bed of green leaves and shredded beetroot. It was gone in moments, and Link found himself wishing there had been more of it, eagerly looking for the next course. This arrived soon after, a thick, hearty pumpkin and walnut soup.

“This is amazing,” Thoria said. “So was the first one.”

“It reminds me of home,” Link admitted, between bites.

“It should,” Thoria said. “I insisted the goats cheese and pumpkins came from there. I made sure the treasury paid double their usual price for them, considering the time of year and all.”

Link stared at her, and squeezed her hand under the table.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You have no idea what this will do for Ordon. Trade will explode.”

“I know,” she said, a shine of butter on her lip as she took a delicate bite of bread. “That’s why I did it.”

Too soon, the soup was finished. As the plates were cleared, servants swanned by and laid down parchment tubes tied at each end. Thoria’s eyes lit up.

“Aha!” she grabbed one. “Crackers!”

She indicated Shad and Telma pick up their own, prodding Link to do the same. Around them, people were staring at the tubes, watching Thoria to see what they had to do.

“Grab an end and pull,” she laughed, offering one end to Link, and reaching out for Telma’s. Link offered his to Shad, and the scholar offered his to Telma.

“On three, pull!” Thoria said. “One, two, three!”

They tugged, and the crackers came apart with small bangs that made a couple of people scream. Thoria eagerly dug into the inside of her cracker and pulled out a thin piece of tissue paper. She unfolded it.

“A hat!” she exclaimed. “Go on, put yours on!”

Soon, the hall was filled with the sound of mini explosions. Link glanced up to Zelda’s table, and grinned as he saw her pull a cracker with Impa, who eagerly jammed the paper hat on her head.

And at last, the main course was served. A large plate was laid down before each of them, piled high with steaming turkey, crispy roast potatoes and vegetables, boats of gravy made their way down the table, and ramekins of different sauces soon followed suit.

The food was incredible. Though Link had enjoyed such meals before, there was something about this one that was indescribably special. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, the overwhelming sense of joy and merriment that infected the hall, or perhaps it was the company surrounding him. Perhaps, even, it was a sense of great achievement, knowing that he and Thoria had managed to pull off the impossible in such a short space of time.

All around them, people were talking, laughing, and eating. The children’s excited voices rang high above the chatter and the clattering of cutlery, and Link sat back and took a moment to watch them, the people of Hyrule all together under one roof, enjoying a feast made possible by the generosity of others, warm and comfortable. He knew it would not last. Once the night was over, the people would go home, and the struggle would begin anew for them. But for this night, their bellies were full, their souls were light, and they would always have this memory of togetherness.

And all of it was possible because of Thoria.

He reached for her hand under the table and their eyes met. Again, the longing to tell her just how much she meant to him rose in his chest like a light. There would be no better time than now. To hell with what others might think. He opened his mouth as the doors of the great hall crashed open.

Lord Dool strode into the hall, accompanied by a few of his personal guards. Silence descended as he cast a narrowed eye about his surroundings, and marched towards Zelda’s table. Her Royal Guard drew closer to her, and Impa rose. Dool stopped before her and bowed with a flourish.

“Dearest Princess,” he said, his voice carrying through the silent hall. “I was most surprised to receive your letter thanking me for my generous donation, and inviting me to this grand event.”

“Lord Dool,” Zelda replied. “I had thought you were not coming. The hour is late, and dinner has been served.”

“Oh, I shall not be staying,” Dool said, waving a careless hand. “I say I was surprised to receive your letter, as I had made no such donation to this cause of yours.”

Link stiffened, his spine prickling. He slid down in his seat as Zelda’s gaze searched for him. Thoria turned subtly to shield him from her eyes.

“I… see,” Zelda said. “Perhaps we might discuss this after this celebration, my lord. I would be happy to offer you rooms in the castle.”

“No need, my princess,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder, and Link slid further down. Thoria found his hand.

“He wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

Dool smiled.

“No need,” he repeated. “I only come to deliver alarming news to you, my dearest Zelda. News that cannot wait." He raised his voice a fraction. “Your Chosen Knight and his charge came to visit me, begging for money, and claiming it was a request from yourself. I was under no such delusions that this was true, as you and I do correspond frequently. You would have asked me yourself, were you in need.”

Link stared, horrified, as Dool began to pace up and down before the high table, gesticulating theatrically.

“I, of course, denied such a request,” he said. “I saw it as nothing more than a couple of scam artists trying to swindle me out of my hard earned money. I was further convinced when your Knight made a most alarming offer to me, especially since he has shown such poor sportsmanship in the past.”

He grinned as Link gripped the edge of his seat.

“Oh, Hylia,” he groaned. "This is all because i beat him in front of everyone!" Thoria tensed in her seat, her hand a vice around his wrist.

“Continue, Lord Dool,” Zelda said, her voice quiet and firm. Dool’s smile widened.

“He offered to tell me of your most intimate secrets in exchange for rupees,” he announced with a laugh. “I understand the boy may desire me as his king, but I told him that his actions were treasonous, and banished him from my estate. I thought it best to warn you that you have a traitor in your midst.”

Zelda’s eyes found him at last. There was no anger there, only confusion and pain. Link could only gape, and shake his head, hoping his own eyes said enough. But she rose, slowly, and opened her mouth, Impa already moving along the table, heading his way. Thoria placed a hand on her knife, readying herself to spring, as Link prepared himself to grab her and run…

“What poppycock!” a voice rang out.

Lord Resper had risen from his seat and was glaring at Dool with undisguised disdain.

“I too have spoken with the Knight in question, and he has been nothing be courteous and honourable,” Resper declared, pointing a finger at Dool. “He _was_ acting on her Highness’s orders, gathering funds for this very celebration that we were enjoying, until you arrived. I am sure other nobles can attest to his good character.”

Link swallowed, hardly daring to believe his good luck. He glanced at the other nobles, some of whom were nodding, though Lord Denwealth had a decidedly sour look on his face. Dool sneered.

“Sit down, Grandpa, before you have a stroke,” he said. “Princess, I would never lie to you. Your Chosen Knight is as untrustworthy as they come. He-“

“He’s not!” a voice said, coming from somewhere across the hall. “He’s a Hero!”

“Yeah, he saved us all, remember?” another voice sounded.

“And he did all this for us!” another voice bellowed.

Link gaped as more voices rose, sounding in his defense.

“You leave him alone!”

“Yeah, he’s better than you!”

“Stupid rich bastard!”

“Link saved my life once!”

“He let us sing with him in the town square!”

“Meanie-pants bad man!”

More voices rose, hurling insults at Dool as much as they roared in Link’s favour. Link could only stare as even Telma joined in.

“Our Link here is the only reason most of us are alive today! How DARE you call him a traitor!” she hollered, half rising from her seat.

Dool took a step back as the tide of angry voices grew, an ugly purple flush creeping up his neck. Zelda raised her hands, trying to restore order, to no avail. Dool’s guards closed in on him, forming a circle, as the people began to rise from their seats, roaring their praises for Link, and their disdain for the arrogant lord before them, until…

“ENOUGH!” Thoria bellowed.

Link flinched and clapped a hand over his ear.

“Sorry,” she said, as silence fell. She waved to Zelda, who blinked, and nodded.

“Lord Dool,” she said, smoothing the front of her dress. “You have brought shame to your house name with such unfounded statements, brought before me without proof. I would request you take your leave, and we shall speak again in a few days.” And she sat with great finality.

Dool gaped at her for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then he turned on his heel and strode for the doors, throwing a filthy look in Link’s direction as he went.

There were loud cheers as the door banged closed behind him, and the hall exploded with talk. Link hunched down in his seat again as eyes sought him out.

“Well, that was… something,” Thoria remarked, picking up her fork again. Her other hand brushed his, and her voice lowered. “You okay?”

“I’ll tell you when my brain starts working again,” Link said, shaking his head. “That bastard.”

“I’d use a worse word,” Telma grumbled, spooning a large splat of cranberry sauce onto her plate. Link gave a weak chuckle as the excited buzzing voices slowly returned to normal, the people going back to their meal as the gossip dissipated.

After the plates were cleared and the dessert served and devoured, Link sat back in his seat, groaning and rubbing his stomach. Despite Dool’s attack, it hadn’t stopped him from thoroughly enjoying the feast.

All around, people were relaxing back in their chairs, gazing about the hall, a slight sadness to their eyes. Now the feast was over, there was little else to do but stretch the conversations, to slowly sip the wine, and try to drag out this magical evening for as long as they could. But there was only so long that could last. Chairs began to scrape as the first few people rose, but the doors of the hall opened again. Link looked up to see an orchestra, complete with a festively dressed choir filing in.

“Ah,” Thoria said, with a wicked smile. “Now for my final surprise.”

The orchestra set up quickly before the high table, and [began to play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOOaH6BAwvY).

The music washed over Link like a tidal wave, crashing through his armour and bringing tears to his eyes as it swelled and soared around the hall. For almost ten minutes, each person in the hall sat transfixed as the orchestra played, and the choir sang. Behind them, Zelda had her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide, and Impa was trying to hide her streaming eyes behind her napkin.

He looked to Thoria, who was smiling. She met his gaze and her eyes softened.

They did not speak. There was no need to. The music said everything he could ever want to, as he found it always had.

When the piece was finished, the orchestra began to play another festive piece, this one more lively, and people began to take to the dance floor.

The rest of the evening was spent dancing and drinking and laughing. Link danced with Thoria, with Telma, with Zelda, and even Impa, who was unabashedly merry. He danced with more townsfolk than he had in years, since that first great party all those years ago, after defeating Ganondorf.

And then, at last, in the small hours of the morning, the party was over. Guests filed out, and they said goodbye to Telma and Shad. As the last of them trickled away, Zelda approached, prodded along by Impa.

“I did not get a chance before,” she said, and took a deep breath. “But I wanted to thank you. Both of you. I was… admittedly apprehensive about this Christmas, but the people loved it. I have never seen them so happy. I do not think any celebration will be as grand as this in the future, but…” she sighed, and smiled a gentle smile. “I would be happy to add this to our traditions.”

“I’m glad,” Thoria said. “Thank you for giving it a chance.”

Zelda nodded, and turned to Link.

“I did not believe Lord Dool,” she said. “I know you would never betray me.”

And with that, she bade them goodnight. Link tried to smile. He should feel relieved that she trusted him, but he could not help but worry, for he was betraying her. He was with Thoria.

But his worries were pushed aside as Thoria took his arm and guided him out, and up to his rooms.

Entering, he laughed as he saw the fire lit in the hearth, and a tiny Christmas tree in the corner.

“I’m not even going to ask how,” he said, gathering her to him. She laughed and kissed him, before breaking away and skipping to the tree. She pulled out a thick, knitted jumper with a cartoonish reindeer on the front.

“It’s tradition to wear an ugly jumper on Christmas morning,” she said. “I know it’s a bit late, but it’s better late than never!” she threw it to him and pulled on her own, which depicted a snowman. She pulled him down onto the rug before the fire and handed him a wrapped gift.

“I hope you like it,” she said, as he pulled off the paper, revealing a tiny, hand carved wolf. He smiled.

“I love it.” Then, his smile slipped. “I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t even think! I’m sorry Thoria, we’ve been so busy, and-“

She shut him up with a kiss.

“The only gift I’d ever want is what you give me every day,” she said. “You.”

She pulled the pillows and blankets off the bed and piled them on the floor. Together they sank down, staring into the fire, warmed by the flames and by the other’s arms. Thoria stirred and kissed his ear, murmuring softly.

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! This was a fun little challenge that had been bouncing in my head for a while, but I certainly found that writing a chapter a day was more demanding than I anticipated!
> 
> But enough of that. I promised you an update on A Dark Castle Rises, and here it is.
> 
> Despite the last few months being incredibly, painfully busy and experiencing some significant delays, I am excited to announce that the first chapter of A Dark Castle Rises will be posted on 1st February 2021.
> 
> Thank you again for all your support; please like, share and comment the hell out of it all. I appreciate everything you do; seeing your comments and kudos motivates me to keep writing and makes me happier than I can possibly express. I adore your feedback, and hope to see more of it in the coming year.
> 
> Merry Christmas!
> 
> Aderyn


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